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"
"Don't do that."
"I met him at Courcy, and rather liked him."
Mr Palliser had barely spoken to Mr Crosbie at Courcy, but then in
the usual course of his social life he seldom did more than barely
speak to anybody.
"Did you?" said Lord Porlock. "For the poor girl's sake I hope he's
not a ruffian. How any man should propose to my father to marry a
daughter out of his house, is more than I can understand. How was my
mother looking?"
"I didn't see anything amiss about her."
"I expect that he'll murder her some day." Then that conversation
came to an end.
Mr Palliser himself perceived--as he looked at her he could not but
perceive--that a certain amount of social energy seemed to enliven
Lady Dumbello when he approached her. She was given to smile when
addressed, but her usual smile was meaningless, almost leaden, and
never in any degree flattering to the person to whom it was accorded.
Very many women smile as they answer the words which are spoken to
them, and most who do so flatter by their smile. The thing is so
common that no one thinks of it.


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