"Ah, now you are going to criticize his pronunciation, instead of admiring his genius," said Dopsy, who had never heard of Edward Irving and the Latter Day Saints.
"If you mean Henry Irving the tragedian, I admire him immensely," said Mr. Hamleigh.
"Then we are sure to get on. I felt that you must be simpatica," replied Dopsy, not particular as to a gender in a language which she only knew by sight, as Bannister knew Greek.
Dinner was announced at this moment, and Mrs. Tregonell won Dopsy's gratitude by asking Mr. Hamleigh to take her into dinner. Mr. Montagu gave his arm to Miss Bridgeman, Leonard took Mopsy, and Christabel followed with Major Bree, who felt for her keenly, wondering how she managed to bear herself so bravely, reproaching the dead woman in his mind for having parted two faithful hearts.
He was shocked by the change in Angus, obvious even to-night, albeit the soft lamplight and evening dress were flattering to his appearance; but he said no word of that change to Christabel.
"I have been having a romp with my godson," he said, when they were seated, knowing that this was the one topic likely to cheer and interest his hostess.
"I am so glad," she answered, lighting up at once, and unconscious that Angus was trying to see her face under the low lamplight, which made it necessary to bend one's head a little to see one's opposite neighbour. "And do you think he is grown? It is nearly ten days since you saw him, and he grows so fast."
"He is a young Hercules. If there were any snakes in Cornwall he would be capable of strangling a brace of them. I suppose Leonard is tremendously proud of him."
"Yes," she answered with a faint sigh. "I think Leonard is proud of him."
"But not quite so fond of him as you are," replied Major Bree, interpreting her emphasis. "That is only natural. Infantolatry is a feminine attribute. Wait till the boy is old enough to go out fishin' and shootin'—" the Major was too much a gentleman to pronounce a final g—"and then see if his father don't dote upon him."