Geoffrey introduced Mr. Granger, whom Honoria could not at first
remember. Nor did she receive the announcement that he was going to dine
and stay the night with any particular enthusiasm. The young men melted
away at Geoffrey's advent like mists before a rising sun. He greeted
them civilly enough, but with him they had nothing in common. To tell
the truth they were a little afraid of him. This man with his dark
handsome face sealed with the stamp of intellect, his powerful-looking
form (ill dressed, according to their standard) and his great and
growing reputation, was a person with whom they had no sympathy, and
who, they felt, had no sympathy with them. We talk as though there is
one heaven and one hell for all of us, but here must be some mistake. An
impassable gulf yawns between the different classes of mankind. What has
such a man as Geoffrey to do with the feeble male and female butterflies
of a London drawing-room? There is only one link between them: they live
on the same planet.
When the fine young men and the two stray ladies had melted away,
Geoffrey took Mr.
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