The women resented the discovery that Isabel was--personally speaking, at least--beyond the reach of hostile criticism.

Her beauty was viewed as a downright offense; her refined and modest manners were set down as perfect acting; "really disgusting, my dear, in so young a girl." General Drumblade, a large and mouldy veteran, in a state of chronic astonishment (after his own matrimonial experience) at Hardyman's folly in marrying at all, diffused a wide circle of gloom, wherever he went and whatever he did.

His accomplished wife, forcing her high spirits on everybody's attention with a sort of kittenish playfulness, intensified the depressing effect of the general dullness by all the force of the strongest contrast.

After waiting half an hour for his mother, and waiting in vain, Hardyman led the way to the tent in despair.

"The sooner I fill their stomachs and get rid of them," he thought savagely, "the better I shall be pleased!" The luncheon was attacked by the company with a certain silent ferocity, which the waiters noticed as remarkable, even in their large experience.
The men drank deeply, but with wonderfully little effect in raising their spirits; the women, with the exception of amiable Mrs.Drumblade, kept Isabel deliberately out of the conversation that went on among them.