Hyacinth's Little Dinner


'The little Ottleys,' as they were called (they were a tall,
fine-looking couple), found themselves in a small circle of people who
were all most pleasing to the eye, with the single exception of Miss
Yeo. And even she, in a markedly elegant dress of a peculiarly vicious
shade of green, had her value in the picture. A little shocked by the
harshness of the colour, one's glance turned with relief to Hyacinth, in
satin of a blue so pale that it looked like the reflection of the sky in
water. A broad, pale blue ribbon was wound in and out of her brown hair
in the Romney fashion. Of course she looked her best. Women always do if
they wish to please one man when others are there, and she was in the
slightly exalted frame of mind that her reflection in the mirror had
naturally given her.

The faint atmosphere of chaperonage that always hung about Sir Charles
in Hyacinth's house did not interfere with his personal air of enjoying
an escapade, nor with his looking distinguished to the very verge of
absurdity. As to Cecil, the reaction from his disappointment of the
afternoon had made him look more vivid than usual. He was flushed
with failure.

He talked rather irresponsibly, and looked at Hyacinth, his neighbour at
dinner, with such obvious appreciation, that her gaiety became
infectious. In the little panelled dining-room which, like all the
house, was neither commonplace nor bizarre, but simple and
distinguished, floated an atmosphere of delightful ease and intimacy.