Hence, perhaps, after a few other meetings of a formal character, the prettily intimate invitation she had sent to Paul.
They were still laughing at the turn of the foolish conversation when the other guests began to enter the drawing-room.

First came Edward Doon, the Egyptologist, a good-looking man of forty, having the air of a spruce don, with a pretty young wife, Lady Angela Doon; then Count Lavretsky, of the Russian Embassy, and Countess Lavretsky; Lord Bantry, a young Irish peer with literary ambitions; and a Mademoiselle de Cressy, a convent intimate of the Princess and her paid companion, completed the small party.
Dinner was served at a round table, and Paul found himself between Lady Angela Doon, whom he took in, and the Countess Lavretsky.

Talk was general and amusing.

As Doon did not make, and apparently did not expect anyone to make any reference to King Qa or Amenhotep or Rameses--names vaguely floating in Paul's brain--but talked in a sprightly way about the French stage and the beauty of Norwegian fiords, Paul perceived that the Princess's alleged reason for her invitation was but a shallow pretext.

Doon did not need any entertainment at all.