with some alacrity, for he had a sense of
being put in the wrong in respect to their specimen by Nash's very
presence. He remembered how it had been a part of their bargain, as it
were, that he should present that gentleman to his sister. He was not
sorry to be relieved of the office by Nick, and he even tacitly and
ironically wished his kinsman's friend joy of a colloquy with Mrs.
Dallow. Sherringham's life was spent with people, he was used to people,
and both as host and as guest he carried the social burden in general
lightly. He could observe, especially in the former capacity, without
uneasiness and take the temperature without anxiety. But at present his
company oppressed him; he felt worried and that he showed it--which was
the thing in the world he had ever held least an honour to a gentleman
dedicated to diplomacy. He was vexed with the levity that had made him
call his roomful together on so poor a pretext, and yet was vexed with
the stupidity that made the witnesses so evidently find the pretext
sufficient. He inwardly groaned at the delusion under which he had
saddled himself with the Tragic Muse--a tragic muse who was strident and
pert--and yet wished his visitors would go away and leave him alone with
her.

Nick Dormer said to Mrs. Dallow that he wanted her to know an old friend
of his, one of the cleverest men he knew; and he added the hope that she
would be gentle and encouraging with him; he was so timid and so easily
disconcerted. Mr. Nash hereupon dropped into a chair by the arm of her
sofa, their companion went away, and Mrs. Dallow turned her glance upon
her new acquaintance without a perceptible change of position. Then she
emitted with rapidity the remark: "It's very awkward when people are
told one's clever."

"It's only awkward if one isn't," Gabriel smiled.

"Yes, but so few people are--enough to be talked about."

"Isn't that just the reason why such a matter, such an exception, ought
to be mentioned to them?" he asked. "They mightn't find it out for
themselves. Of course, however, as you say, there ought to be a
certainty; then they're surer to know it. Dormer's a dear fellow, but
he's rash and superficial."

Mrs. Dallow, at this incitement, turned her glance a second time on her
visitor; but during the rest of the conversation she rarely repeated the
movement. If she liked Nick Dormer extremely--and it may without more
delay be communicated to the reader that she did--her liking was o