The dinner-party was large, and the conversation by no means general. So far as Angela was concerned, it was held entirely with the man who took her down, and his name was Lord Jocelyn le Breton—a rugged-faced man, with a pleasing manner and an agreeable voice; no longer young. He talked to her a good deal in a light, irresponsible vein, as if it mattered very little what he said so that it amused the young lady. He discoursed about many things, principally about dinners, asking Angela what were her own views as to dinners, and expostulating with her feminine contempt for the subject. "Each dinner," he said, "should be like a separate and distinct work of art, and should be contrived for different kinds of wine. There should be a champagne dinner, for instance, light, and composed of many dishes, but some of these substantial; there should be a claret dinner, grave and conscientious; a Burgundy dinner of few courses, and those solid; a German wine dinner, in which only the simplest plates should appear. But unto harmony and consistency in dining we have not yet arrived. Perhaps, Miss Messenger, you may be induced to bring your intellect to bear upon the subject. I hear you took high honors at Newnham lately."
She laughed.
"You do too much honor to my intellect, Lord Jocelyn. At Newnham they teach us political economy, but they have not trusted us with the art of dining. Do you know, we positively did not care much what we had for dinner!"
"My ward, Harry, used to say—but I forget if you ever met him."
"I think not. What is his name?"
"Well, he used to bear my name, and everybody knew him as Harry le Breton; but he had no right to it, because he was no relation of mine, and so he gave it up and took his own."
"Oh!" Angela felt profoundly uninterested in Mr. Harry le Breton.
"Yes. And now you never will meet him. For he is gone." Lord Jocelyn uttered these words in so sepulchral a tone that Angela gave them greater significance than they deserved.
"I am very sorry," she said.
"No, Miss Messenger, he is not dead. He is only dead to society. He has gone out of the world; he has returned to—in fact, his native rank in life."