But the proper pause had evidently not yet come, and now to prevent it the Countess strained her energies and tasked her genius intensely.

Have you an idea of the difficulty of keeping up the ball among a host of ill-assorted, stupid country people, who have no open topics, and can talk of nothing continuously but scandal of their neighbours, and who, moreover, feel they are not up to the people they are mixing with?
Darting upon Seymour Jocelyn, the Countess asked touchingly for news of the partridges.

It was like the unlocking of a machine.

Seymour was not blythe in his reply, but he was loud and forcible; and when he came to the statistics--oh, then you would have admired the Countess!--for comparisons ensued, braces were enumerated, numbers given were contested, and the shooting of this one jeered at, and another's sure mark respectfully admitted.

And how lay the coveys?
And what about the damage done by last winter's floods?
And was there good hope of the pheasants?
Outside this latter the Countess hovered.