eir familiarity with social usages,
conversation was set in movement.

Buckland could not be quite himself. The consciousness that he had
sought these people not at all for their own sake made him formal and
dry; his glances, his half-smile, indicated a doubt whether the Moxeys
belonged entirely to the sphere in which he was at home. Hence a rather
excessive politeness, such as the man who sets much store on breeding
exhibits to those who may at any moment, even in a fraction of a
syllable, prove themselves his inferiors. With men and women of the
unmistakably lower orders, Buckland could converse in a genial tone
that recommended him to their esteem; on the borderland of refinement,
his sympathies were repressed, and he held the distinctive part of his
mind in reserve.

Marcella desired to talk agreeably, but a weight lay upon her tongue;
she was struck with the resemblance in Warricombe's features to those
of his sister, and this held her in a troubled preoccupation,
occasionally evident when she made a reply, or tried to diversify the
talk by leading to a new topic. It was rather early in the afternoon,
and she had slight hope that any other caller would appear; a female
face would have been welcome to her, even that of foolish Mrs. Morton,
who might possibly look in before six o'clock. To her relief the door
did presently open, but the sharp, creaking footstep which followed was
no lady's; the servant announced Mr. Malkin.

Marcella's eyes gleamed strangely. Not with the light of friendly
welcome, though for that it could be mistaken. She rose quietly, and
stepped forward with a movement which again seemed to betoken eagerness
of greeting. In presenting the newcomer to Mr. Warricombe, she spoke
with an uncertain voice. Buckland was more than formal. The stranger's
aspect impressed him far from favourably, and he resented as an
impudence the hearty hand-grip to which he perforce submitted.

'I come to plead with you,' exclaimed Malkin, turning to Marcella, in
his abrupt, excited way. 'After accepting your invitation to dine, I
find that the thing is utterly and absolutely impossible. I had
entirely forgotten an engagement of the very gravest nature. I am
conscious of behaving in quite an unpardonable way.'

Marcella laughed down his excuses. She had suddenly become so mirthful
that Christian looked at her in surprise, imagining that she was unable
to restrain her sense of the ridiculous in Malkin's demeanour.