was going to bite. Once very timidly she asked Colonel Martlett whether
he liked Strauss, and was puzzled by his answer: "Rather; those 'Tales
of Hoffmann' are rippin', don't you think? You go to the opera much?"
She could not, of course, know that the thought which instantly rose
within her was doing the governing classes a grave injustice--almost all
of whom save Colonel Martlett knew that the 'Tales of Hoffmann' were
by one Offenbach. But beyond all things she felt she would never, never
learn to talk as they were all talking--so quickly, so continuously, so
without caring whether everybody or only the person they were talking
to heard what they said. She had always felt that what you said was only
meant for the person you said it to, but here in the great world she
must evidently not say anything that was not meant for everybody, and
she felt terribly that she could not think of anything of that sort
to say. And suddenly she began to want to be alone. That, however,
was surely wicked and wasteful, when she ought to be learning such a
tremendous lot; and yet, what was there to learn? And listening just
sufficiently to Colonel Martlett, who was telling her how great a man he
thought a certain general, she looked almost despairingly at the one
who was going to bite. He was quite silent at that moment, gazing at
his plate, which was strangely empty. And Nedda thought: 'He has jolly
wrinkles about his eyes, only they might be heart disease; and I like
the color of his face, so nice and yellow, only that might be liver. But
I DO like him--I wish I'd been sitting next to him; he looks real.' From
that thought, of the reality of a man whose name she did not know, she
passed suddenly into the feeling that nothing else of this about her was
real at all, neither the talk nor the faces, not even the things she
was eating. It was all a queer, buzzing dream. Nor did that sensation
of unreality cease when her aunt began collecting her gloves, and they
trooped forth to the drawing-room. There, seated between Mrs. Sleesor
and Lady Britto, with Lady Malloring opposite, and Miss Bawtrey leaning