roduced to
her across the table by Mrs Mitchell, with _empressement_, as Mr Aylmer
Ross.

Edith felt happy tonight; her spirits were raised by what she felt to
be an atmosphere _tiede_, as the French say; full of indulgence,
sympathetic, relaxing, in which either cleverness or stupidity could
float equally at its ease. The puerility of the silly little
arrangements to amuse removed all sense of ceremony. The note is always
struck by the hostess, and she was everything that was amiable, without
effort or affectation.

No-one was ever afraid of her.

Bruce's neighbour at dinner was the delicate, battered-looking
actress, in a Royal fringe and a tight bodice with short sleeves, who
had once been a celebrity, though no-one remembered for what. Miss Myra
Mooney, formerly a beauty, had known her days of success. She had been
the supreme performer of ladylike parts. She had been known as the very
quintessence of refinement. It was assumed when she first came out that
a duke would go to the devil for her in her youth, and that in her late
maturity she would tour the provinces with _The Three Musketeers_.
Neither of these prophecies had, however, been fulfilled. She still
occasionally took small middle-aged titled parts in repertoire
matinees. She was unable to help referring constantly to the hit she
made in _Peril_ at Manchester in 1887; nor could she ever resist
speaking of the young man who sent her red carnations every day of his
blighted existence for fifteen years; a pure romance, indeed, for, as
she owned, he never even wished to be introduced to her. She still
called him poor boy, oblivious of the fact that he was now sixty-eight,
and, according to the illustrated papers, spent his entire time in
giving away a numberless succession of daughters in brilliant marriage
at St George's, Hanover Square.

In this way Miss Mooney lived a good deal in the past, but she was not
unaware of the present, and was always particularly nice to people
generally regarded as bores. So she was never without plenty of
invitations. Mitchell had had formerly a slight _tendre_ for her, and
in his good nature pretended to think she had not altered a bit. She
was still refined _comme cela ne se fait plus_; it was practically no
longer possible to find such a perfect lady, even on the stage. As she
also had all the easy good nature of the artist, and made herself
extremely agreeable, Bruce was delighted with her, and evidently
thought he had