Yet there was something in Paula which he did not recognise.  Since she could formulate desires, few had found impression on her lips which were not at once gratified; an exception caused her at first rather astonishment than impatience.  Such astonishment fell upon her when she understood that Egremont’s coming to Ullswater was not on her account.  In truth, she wished it had been, and from that moment the fates were kind enough to notice Paula’s poor little existence, and bid her remember she was mortal.  She took the admonition ill, and certainly it was impertinent from her point of view.  She had slight philosophy, but out of that disappointment Paula by degrees drew an understanding that she had had a glimpse of a strange world, that something of moment had been at stake.

Egremont, standing in the rear of a chatting group, had all but dreamed himself into oblivion of the present when he heard loud announcement of ‘Mr. Dalmaine.’  It was some time since he had met the Member for Vauxhall.  Looking upon the politician’s well-knit frame, his well-coloured face with its expression of shrewd earnestness, he for a moment seemed to himself to shrink into insignificance.  After sitting opposite Dalmaine for an hour at the dinner-table, he was able to regard the man again in what he deemed a true light.  But the impression made upon one by an object suddenly presented when the thought is busy with far other things will as a rule embody much essential truth.  As a force, Egremont would not have weighed in the scale against Dalmaine.  Putting himself in conscious opposition to such a man, he had but his due in a sense of nullity.

Mr. Tyrrell was kind to him in the assignment of a partner.  A pretty, gentle, receptive maiden, anxious to show interest in things of the mind—­with such a one Walter was at his best, because his simplest and happiest.  He put away thought of Lambeth—­which in truth was beginning to trouble his mind like a fixed idea—­and talked much as he would have done a couple of years ago, with bright intelligence, with natural enjoyment of the hour.  It was greatly his charm in such conversation that had made him a favourite with pleasant people of the world.  In withdrawing himself from the sphere of these amenities he was opposing the free growth of his character, which in consequence suffered.  He was cognisant of that; he knew that he was more himself to-night than he had been for some months.  But the fixed idea waited in the background.

When the ladies were gone, he saw Dalmaine rise and come round the table towards him.

‘I’m glad to see you again,’ Dalmaine began, depositing his wine-glass and refilling it.  ’Pray tell me something about your lectures.  You have resumed since Christmas, I think?’

Egremont had no mind to speak of these things.  It cost him an effort to find an answer.

‘Yes, I still have a few hearers.’

And at once he was angry with himself for falling into this confession of failure.  Dalmaine was the last man before whom he would affect humility.