nor quite displeased with his task.
Grandcourt had said to him by way of conclusion, "Don't make yourself
more disagreeable than nature obliges you."

"That depends," thought Lush. But he said, "I will write a brief
abstract for Mrs. Grandcourt to read." He did not suggest that he
should make the whole communication in writing, which was a proof that
the interview did not wholly displease him.

Some provision was being made for himself in the will, and he had no
reason to be in a bad humor, even if a bad humor had been common with
him. He was perfectly convinced that he had penetrated all the secrets
of the situation; but he had no diabolical delight in it. He had only
the small movements of gratified self-loving resentment in discerning
that this marriage had fulfilled his own foresight in not being as
satisfactory as the supercilious young lady had expected it to be, and
as Grandcourt wished to feign that it was. He had no persistent spite
much stronger than what gives the seasoning of ordinary scandal to
those who repeat it and exaggerate it by their conjectures. With no
active compassion or good-will, he had just as little active
malevolence, being chiefly occupied in liking his particular pleasures,
and not disliking anything but what hindered those
pleasures--everything else ranking with the last murder and the last
_opera bouffe_, under the head of things to talk about. Nevertheless,
he was not indifferent to the prospect of being treated uncivilly by a
beautiful woman, or to the counter-balancing fact that his present
commission put into his hands an official power of humiliating her. He
did not mean to use it needlessly; but there are some persons so gifted
in relation to us that their "How do you do?" seems charged with
offense.

By the time that Mr. Lush was announced, Gwendolen had braced herself
to a bitter resolve that he should not witness the slightest betrayal
of her feeling, whatever he might have to tell. She invited him to sit
down with stately quietude. After all, what was this man to her? He was
not in the least like her husband. Her power of hating a coarse,
familiar-mannered man, with clumsy hands, was now relaxed by the
intensity with which she hated his contrast.

He held a small paper folded in his hand while he spoke.

"I need hardly say that I should not have presented myself if Mr.
Grandcourt had not expressed a strong wish to that effect--as no doubt
he has mentioned to you."

From