Pasmer felt that she and her daughter were conspicuous to all the rest
where they stood apart, with the two Maverings converging upon them from
different points, the son nodding and laughing to friends of both sexes
as he came, the father wholly absorbed in not spilling the glass of
claret punch which he carried in one hand, and not falling down on the
slippery floor with the plate of salad which he bore in the other. She
had thoughts of feigning unconsciousness; she would have had no scruple
in practising this or any other social stratagem, for though she kept a
conscience in regard to certain matters--what she considered
essentials--she lived a thousand little lies every day, and taught her
daughter by precept and example to do the same. You must seem to be
looking one way when you were really looking another; you must say this
when you meant that; you must act as if you were thinking one thing when
you were thinking something quite different; and all to no end, for, as
she constantly said, people always know perfectly well what you were
about, whichever way you looked or whatever you said, or no matter how
well you acted the part of thinking what you did not think. Now, although
she seemed not to look, she saw all that has been described at a glance,
and at another she saw young Mavering slide easily up to his father and
relieve him of the plate and glass, with a laugh as pleasant and a show
of teeth as dazzling as he bestowed upon any of the ladies he had passed.
She owned to her recondite heart that she liked this in young Mavering,
though at the same time she asked herself what motive he really had in
being so polite to his father before people. But she had no time to
decide; she had only time to pack the question hurriedly away for future
consideration, when young Mavering arrived at her elbow, and she turned
with a little "Oh!" of surprise so perfectly acted that it gave her the
greatest pleasure.