"Mrs. O'Neill, my dears."
Then the ladies at the table inclined their heads at me and smiled, while the men (especially those who were the most strangely dressed) rose from their seats and bowed deeply.
EIGHTIETH CHAPTER
Of all houses in London this, I thought, was the least suitable to me.
Looking down the table I told myself that it must be the very home of idle gossip and the hot-bed of tittle-tattle.
I was wrong. Hardly had I been in the house a day when I realised that my fellow-guests were the most reserved and self-centred of all possible people.
One old gentleman who wore a heavy moustache, and had been a colonel in the Indian army, was understood to be a student of Biblical prophecy, having collected some thousands of texts which established the identity of the British nation with the lost tribes of Israel.
Another old gentleman, who wore a patriarchal beard and had taken orders without securing a living, was believed to be writing a history of the world and (after forty years of continuous labour) to have reached the century before Christ.
An elderly lady with a benign expression was said to be a tragic actress who was studying in secret for a season at the National Theatre.