“He is as determined to analyse me as if I were a chemical compound,” she said to herself.
“Perhaps we may as well join the group,” suggested Lord Engleton.
It opened to admit the new comers, disclosing Miss Du Prel, in a gown of pale amber brocade, enthroned upon a straight-backed antique sofa. The exquisiteness of the surroundings which Lady Engleton had a peculiar gift in arranging, the mellow candle-light, the flowers and colours, seem to have satisfied in Valeria an inborn love of splendour that often opened hungry and unsatisfied jaws.
She had never looked so brilliant or so handsome.
Professor Theobald’s face cleared. He explained to Mrs. Temperley that they had been discussing the complexity of human character, and had come to the conclusion that it was impossible to really understand even the simplest man or woman alive. Professor Theobald said that it was a dispensation of Providence which intended the human race for social life. Lady Engleton upbraided the author of the cynical utterance.
“Which of us can dare to face his own basest self?” the culprit demanded. “If any one is so bold, I fear I must accuse him (or even her) of lack of self-knowledge rather than give praise for spotlessness.”
“Oh, I don’t believe all these dreadful things about my fellows!” cried Miss Du Prel, flinging up her fine head defiantly; “one is likely to find in them more or less what one expects. It’s the same everywhere. If you go seeking mole-hills and worms, and put nose to ground on the scent for carrion, you will find them all, with the range of snow-capped Alps in full view, and the infinite of blue above your blind head!”
Hadria, in justice, could not refuse to acknowledge that Professor Theobald was open-minded.
“True,” he said, “it is dangerous to seek for evil, unless you naturally love it, and then——”
“You are past praying for,” said Professor Fortescue.