“Please see that I don’t sit next to that horrible man at lunch,” she whispered.
“There’s no choice,” he answered. “The four of us are alone today.”
“Shall we go in?” said Lord Blair, nodding vigorously to Muriel; and the three men followed her into the dining-room.
The meal proved to be less of an ordeal than she had expected. Their visitor talked at first almost exclusively to his host, who showed him, and discussed, the draft of his reply to the Minister of War; and Muriel made herself quite entrancing to Rupert Helsingham. Under ordinary circumstances she was, in spite of occasional lapses into bored silence, a quick and witty talker; one who speedily established a sympathetic connection with the person with whom she was conversing; and her laughter was frequent and infectious. It was only this Daniel Lane who had such a disturbing effect upon her equanimity; but here, at the opposite side of a large table, she seemed to be out of range of his influence, and she rejoiced in her unimpaired power to captivate the little Diplomatic secretary.
“I am going to call you Rupert at once,” she said to him; and, breaking in on the opposite conversation, “Father,” she demanded, “d’you mind if I call this man by his Christian name? Everybody seems to.”
Lord Blair laughed, holding out his hands in a gesture which indicated that he took no responsibility, and turned to Daniel. “Do you think I ought to let her?” he asked.
To Muriel his remark could hardly have been more unfortunate, and a momentary frown gathered upon her face.
“I think it’s a good idea,” replied Daniel, looking quietly at her. “Then if you quarrel you can revert to ‘Mr. Helsingham’ with telling effect.”
Muriel made a slight movement, not far removed from a toss of her head, and, without giving any reply, continued her conversation to Rupert.
The meal was nearly finished when she became aware that her friend was not paying full attention to her remarks, but was listening to Daniel Lane, whose tongue a glass of wine had loosened, and who was speaking in a low vibrating voice, describing some phases of his life in the desert. At this she, too, began to listen, at first with some irritation, but soon with genuine interest. She had supposed him to be more or less monosyllabic, and she was astonished at his command of languages.