He was dining at the Dormer-Smiths'. Mr. Bragg was there also. It was what Mrs. Dormer-Smith called "a _very_ quiet little dinner--just one or two people, quite cosily," and had been given simply and solely for Mr. Bragg. There was but one other guest, Lady Moppett. Mrs. Dormer-Smith did not consider Lady Moppett to be worth cultivating. She was rich, but not "in the best set." Moreover, she had a craze for music. Mrs. Dormer-Smith's private sentiment about all the Arts was akin to that of the Turkish potentate who inquired at a ball why they did not make their slaves dance for them, instead of taking all that trouble themselves! She considered, in fact, that the Muses ought to be kept in their places. But she would never have uttered any word approaching to such a Boeotian phrase. She had an almost perfect taste in phrases. There, however, sat Lady Moppett at her dinner-table. Mr. Dormer-Smith had stipulated for "some human being to speak to." Mr. Bragg must, of course, be left to May, and Mr. Dormer-Smith could not endure young Bransby. Theodore was not generally popular with his own sex, but Pauline had quite reinstated him in her good graces. And, indeed, how was it possible not to feel agreeably towards a young man whom Lord Castlecombe himself delighted to honour? Lady Moppett was an old acquaintance of her host's, as has been stated. And, except on the subject of music, she was a good-humoured woman enough; making amends for the inflexible rigidity of her dogma as to the divine art by a rather broad indulgence towards the merely moral shortcomings of her fellow-creatures. Mr. Dormer-Smith led her out to dinner. Mr. Bragg, of course, conducted his hostess; and Theodore, therefore, had to give May his arm to the dining-room. There was no help for that. But the party was small and the table was round, and Mr. Bragg would not be far sundered from May. And once in the drawing-room, Aunt Pauline would take care that he should have abundant opportunities for private conversation with her niece. May endured Theodore's proximity far more graciously than would have been the case three months ago. He was not naturally quick at discerning the effect he produced on others, nor careful to spare their feelings. But Love stimulates the perceptions in a wonderful way. Prosaic though his subjects may be, the Arch-Magician has lost nothing of his cunning; and under his potent influence Theodore Bransby developed some little sympathetic insight into May's feelings. He even divined that part of her new, soft kindliness of manner towards himself was due to pity for his bereavement. And he had learned in a more unmistakeable way--for she had told him so--that she approved his care of his step-mother and young brothers and sisters. Theodore was pretty safe in vaunting his disinterested efforts on their behalf. Mrs. Bransby and May were effectually kept apart, and neither of them suspected that this was chiefly his doing.