that girls do not find permanent happiness in
dinner-parties.

It was evident that Neeld ought never to have come to Blent that
evening. For the talk was of futures, and, out of deference to the young
hostess, even more of hers than of the engaged couple's. Theirs indeed
was not provocative of discussion; if satisfactory, it was also obvious.
Cecily's opened more topics, and she herself was willing and seemed even
eager to discuss it. She fell in with Mrs Iver's suggestion that she
ought to be a centre of good works in the district, and in pursuance of
this idea should accept the position of Patron to Miss Swinkerton's
complicated scheme of benevolence. She agreed with Iver that the affairs
of the estate probably wanted overhauling, and that a capable man should
be engaged for the task, even at some expense. She professed herself
ready to cooperate with Bob in protecting the fishing of the Blent. She
was, in a word, very much the proprietor. It was difficult for Neeld to
sit and hear all this. And opposite to him sat Mina Zabriska, rather
silent and demure, but losing no chance of reminding him by a stealthy
glance that this ordinary talk covered a remarkable situation--as indeed
it did, but not of the precise nature that Mina supposed. Neeld felt as
though he were behind the scenes of fate's theatre, and he did not find
the place comfortable. He saw the next tableau in preparation and had to
ask himself what its effect would be on an unsuspecting audience. He
came to the conclusion that foreknowledge was an attribute not likely to
make human beings happy; it could not easily make terms with sympathy.

When dessert was on the table, Iver, true to his habits and traditions,
felt that it was the occasion for a few friendly informal words; the
birthday and the majority of young Lady Tristram demanded so much
recognition. Admirably concise and simple in ordinary conversation, he
became, like so many of his countrymen, rather heavy and pompous when he
got on his legs. Yet he made what everybody except Mina Zabriska
considered a very appropriate little speech. Gainsborough grew quite
enthusiastic over it; and Neeld thought it was wonderfully good (if it
had not happened, of course, to be by force of circumstances an
absurdity from beginning to end). Cecily was content to say, "Thank
you," but her father could not refuse himself the privilege of reply;
the reply was on her behalf, but it was mainly about himself--also a not