She had a vague memory. There was also a Mr Cricker, a very young man
of whom it was said that he could dance like Nijinsky, but never would;
and the rest were chiefly Foreign Office clerks (like Mitchell and
Bruce), more barristers and their wives, a soldier or two, some
undergraduates, a lady photographer, a few pretty girls, and vague
people. There were to be forty guests for dinner and a few more in the
evening.
Almost immediately on her arrival Edith noticed a tall, clean-shaven
man, with smooth fair hair, observant blue eyes, and a rather humorous
expression, and she instantly decided that she would try to will him to
take her to dinner. (Rather a superfluous effort of magnetism, since it
must have been settled already by fate and the ribbons.) It was obvious
from one quick glance that he shared the wish. To their absurdly great
mutual disappointment (a lot of ground was covered very quickly at the
Mitchells), their ribbons didn't match, and she was taken to dinner by
Captain Willis, who looked dull. Fortune, however, favoured her. On her
other side she found the man who looked amusing. He was introduced to
her across the table by Mrs Mitchell, with _empressement_, as Mr Aylmer
Ross.
Edith felt happy tonight; her spirits were raised by what she felt to
be an atmosphere _tiede_, as the French say; full of indulgence,
sympathetic, relaxing, in which either cleverness or stupidity could
float equally at its ease.
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