Part 35

“I don’t quite understand that,” interrupted Dolly.

“It is surely simple,” said I; and I read on without delay. “She is kind even to her husband, and takes the utmost pains to conceal from her mother-in-law anything calculated to distress that lady.”

“I suppose you mean that to be nice?” said Dolly.

“Of course,” I answered; and I proceeded: “She never gives pain to any one, except with the object of giving pleasure to somebody else, and her kindness is no less widely diffused than it is hearty and sincere.”

“That really is nice,” said Dolly, smiling.

“Thank you,” said I, smiling also. “She is very charitable; she takes a pleasure in encouraging the shy and bashful--”

“How do you know that?” asked Dolly.

“While,” I pursued, “suffering without impatience a considerable amount of self-assurance.”

“You can’t know whether I’m patient or not,” remarked Dolly. “I’m polite.”

“She thinks,” I read on, “no evil of the most attractive of women, and has a smile for the most unattractive of men.”

“You put that very nicely,” said Dolly, nodding.

“The former may constantly be seen in her house--and the latter at least as often as many people would think desirable.” (Here for some reason Dolly laughed.) “Her intellectual powers are not despicable.”

“Thank you, Mr. Carter.”

“She can say what she means on the occasions on which she wishes to do so, and she is, at other times, equally capable of meaning much more than she would be likely to say.”

“How do you mean that, Mr. Carter, please?”

“It explains itself,” said I, and I proceeded: “The fact of her receiving a remark with disapprobation does not necessarily mean that it causes her displeasure, nor must it be assumed that she did not expect a visitor merely on the ground that she greets him with surprise.”

Here I observed Lady Mickleham looking at me rather suspiciously.

“I don’t think that’s quite nice of you, Mr. Carter,” she said pathetically.

“Lady Mickleham is, in short,” I went on, coming to my peroration, “equally deserving of esteem and affection--”

“Esteem and affection! That sounds just right,” said Dolly approvingly.

“And those who have been admitted to the enjoyment of her friendship are unanimous in discouraging all others from seeking a similar privilege.”

“I beg your pardon?” cried Lady Mickleham.

“Are unanimous,” I repeated, slowly and distinctly, “in discouraging all others from seeking a similar privilege.”

Dolly looked at me, with her brow slightly puckered. I leant back, puffing at my cigarette. Presently--for there was quite a long pause--Dolly’s lips curved.

“My mental powers are not despicable,” she observed.

“I have said so,” said I.

“I think I see,” she remarked.

“Is there anything wrong?” I asked anxiously.