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She talked delightfully, with a touch-and-go
vivacity which is the highest form of dinner-table talk, not dwelling
with a heavy hand upon any one subject, but glancing from theme to theme
with airy lightness. But not one word did she say about the governor of
Madras; and at this juncture of affairs it would have been the worst
possible taste to inquire too closely after his lordship's welfare.
So the dinner wore on to its stately close, and just as the solemn
procession of flunkeys, long as the shadowy line of the kings in
'Macbeth,' filed off with the empty ice-dishes, Lady Maulevrier said
something which was as if a shell had exploded in the middle of the
table.
'Perhaps you are surprised to see me in such good spirits,' she said,
beaming upon her host, and speaking in those clear, perfectly finished
syllables which are heard further than the louder accents of less
polished speakers, 'but you will not wonder when I let you into the
secret. Maulevrier is on his way home.'
'Indeed!' said Lord Denyer, with the most benignant smile he could
command at such short notice.


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