Mrs. Lammle has sat quite still, with her eyes cast down upon the tablecloth. As Mr. Lammle’s address ends, Twemlow once more turns to her involuntarily, not cured yet of that often recurring impression that she is going to speak to him. This time she really is going to speak to him. Veneering is talking with his other next neighbour, and she speaks in a low voice.

“ Mr. Twemlow.”

He answers, “I beg your pardon? Yes?” Still a little doubtful, because of her not looking at him.

“You have the soul of a gentleman, and I know I may trust you. Will you give me the opportunity of saying a few words to you when you come upstairs?”

“Assuredly. I shall be honoured.”