Mr Palliser had "forgotten himself."

There was room by her on the couch, and once or twice, at Hartlebury,
he had ventured so to seat himself. On the present occasion, however,
he could not do so without placing himself manifestly on her dress.
She would have known how to fill a larger couch even than that,--as
she would have known, also, how to make room,--had it been her mind
to do so. So he stood still over her, and she smiled at him. Such
a smile! It was cold as death, flattering no one, saying nothing,
hideous in its unmeaning, unreal grace. Ah! how I hate the smile
of a woman who smiles by rote! It made Mr Palliser feel very
uncomfortable,--but he did not analyse it, and persevered.

"Lady Dumbello," he said, and his voice was very low, "I have been
looking forward to meeting you here."

"Have you, Mr Palliser? Yes; I remember that you asked me whether I
was coming."

"I did. Hm--Lady Dumbello!" and he almost trenched upon the outside
verge of that schooling which had taught him to avoid both the
sublime and the ridiculous. But he had not forgotten himself as yet,
and so she smiled again.

"Lady Dumbello, in this world in which we live, it is so hard to get
a moment in which we can speak." He had thought that she would move
her dress, but she did not.

"Oh, I don't know," she said; "one doesn't often want to say very
much, I think."

"Ah, no; not often, perhaps. But when one does want! How I do
hate these crowded rooms!" Yet, when he had been at Hartlebury he
had resolved that the only ground for him would be the crowded
drawing-room of some large London house. "I wonder whether you ever
desire anything beyond them?"

"Oh, yes," said she; "but I confess that I am fond of parties."

Mr Palliser looked round and thought that he saw that he was
unobserved. He had made up his mind as to what he would do, and he
was determined to do it. He had in him none of that readiness which
enables some men to make love and carry off their Dulcineas at a
moment's notice, but he had that pluck which would have made himself
disgraceful in his own eyes if he omitted to do that as to the doing
of which he had made a solemn resolution. He would have preferred to
do it sitting, but, _faute de mieux_, seeing that a seat was denied
to him, he would do it standing.

"Griselda," he said,--and it must be admitted that his tone was not
bad. The word sank softly into her ear, like small rain upon moss,
and it sank into no othe