To sit at his own table and tremble before his own guest might have wasted the spirits of even a hardier man than Mr.Harley.
Dorothy was in agony--a kind of despair of shame, eating nothing, saying less, and this attracted the shallow attention of Mrs.Hanway-Harley.
"What makes you so gloomy, Dorothy ?" she asked.

Mrs.Hanway-Harley was in most cheerful feather.

A nobleman at her table, and though for the fortieth time, was ever fresh and delightful to Mrs.Hanway-Harley.

"You are not ill ?" Then, with arch politeness to Storri: "She has been out of sorts all day, Count, and given us all the blues.

I was delighted when you came in to cheer us up." "It is to my great honor, madam," responded Storri, smiling and fixing Dorothy with that beady glance which serpents keep for what linnets they mean to fascinate and swallow, "it is to my great honor, madam, that you say so.