ed spirit. She had Lord Masham on one side of her and on the
other the accomplished Mr. Mulliner, editor of the new high-class lively
evening paper which was expected to meet a want felt in circles
increasingly conscious that Conservatism must be made amusing, and
unconvinced when assured by those of another political colour that it was
already amusing enough. At the end of an hour spent in her company Paul
Overt thought her still prettier than at the first radiation, and if her
profane allusions to her husband's work had not still rung in his ears he
should have liked her--so far as it could be a question of that in
connexion with a woman to whom he had not yet spoken and to whom probably
he should never speak if it were left to her. Pretty women were a clear
need to this genius, and for the hour it was Miss Fancourt who supplied
the want. If Overt had promised himself a closer view the occasion was
now of the best, and it brought consequences felt by the young man as
important. He saw more in St. George's face, which he liked the better
for its not having told its whole story in the first three minutes. That
story came out as one read, in short instalments--it was excusable that
one's analogies should be somewhat professional--and the text was a style
considerably involved, a language not easy to translate at sight. There
were shades of meaning in it and a vague perspective of history which
receded as you advanced. Two facts Paul had particularly heeded. The
first of these was that he liked the measured mask much better at
inscrutable rest than in social agitation; its almost convulsive smile
above all displeased him (as much as any impression from that source
could), whereas the quiet face had a charm that grew in proportion as
stillness settled again. The change to the expression of gaiety excited,
he made out, very much the private protest of a person sitting gratefully
in the twilight when the lamp is brought in too soon. His second
reflexion was that, though generally averse to the flagrant use of
ingratiating arts by a man of age "making up" to a pretty girl, he was
not in this case too painfully affected: which seemed to prove either
that St. George had a light hand or the air of being younger than he was,
or else that Miss Fancourt's own manner somehow made everything right.

Overt walked with her into the gallery, and they strolled to the end of
it, looking at the pictures, the cabinets, the charming