t surprised himself. He
looked surreptitiously round the room, brilliantly lighted here, and
there obscure, and he comprehended how every detail of its varied
sumptuosity aptly illustrated her mind and heart. His own heart was full
of quite new sensations.

"Of course," she was saying, "if Charles is to become the really great
figure that he might be, he will have to cure his greatest fault, and
perhaps it is incurable."

"I know what that is," said Mr. Prohack, softly but positively.

"What is it?" Her glance met his.

"His confounded reserve, lack of elasticity, lack of adaptability. The
old British illusion that everything will come to him who won't budge.
Why, it's a ten-horse-power effort for him even to smile!"

Lady Massulam seemed to leap from her chair, and she broke swiftly into
French:

"Oh! You comprehend then, you? If you knew what I have suffered in your
terrible England! But you do not suspect what I have suffered! I advance
myself. They retire before me. I advance myself again. They retire
again. I open. They close. Do they begin? Never! It is always I who must
begin! Do I make a natural gesture--they say to themselves, 'What a
strange woman! How indiscreet! But she is foreign.' They lift their
shoulders. Am I frank--they pity me. They give themselves never! They
are shut like their lips over their long teeth. Ah, but they have taught
me. In twenty years have I not learnt the lesson? There is nobody among
you who can be more shut-tight than me. I flatter myself that I can be
more terrible than any English woman or man. You do not catch me now!
But what a martyrdom!... I might return to France? No! I am become too
English. In Paris I should resemble an _emigree_. And people would say:
'What is that? It is like nothing at all. It has no name.' Besides, I
like you English. You are terrible, but one can count on you.... _Vous y
etes?_"

"_J'y suis_," replied Mr. Prohack, ravished.

Lady Massulam in her agitation picked up the tumbler and sipped.

"Pardon!" she cried, aghast. "It is yours," and planked the tumbler down
again on the lacquered table.

Mr. Prohack had the wit to drink also. They went on talking.... A silver
tongue vibrated from the hall with solemn British deliberation--One!
Two! The air throbbed to the sound for many seconds.

"Good heavens!" exclaimed Mr. Prohack, rising in alarm. "And this is
Frinton!" She let him out herself, with all soft precautions against
shocking the Frint