" One saw him
everywhere--in the city, in Mayfair drawing-rooms, at Kensington tea-
parties, and at Lambeth Palace. Chevenix swore that he had met him at a
Church Congress--and the only answer to that was that if Chevenix had
truly been there to see, Morosine might well have been there to be seen.
But this catholicity of experience was characteristic of the man; his
attraction to the nice observer lay precisely in that, that he was a
nomad, unappeased and unappeasable, ranging hungrily. There was a
probability, too, that below a surface exquisitely calm there lurked
corrosive tooth and claw. Here are sufficient elements of danger to draw
any woman; so Sanchia found herself presently drawn.
He came to Charles Street one evening late in November, to what Lady Maria
called a little party. There was an autumn session that year, and London
full. To her little party, then, came a solid wedge of three hundred
people into rooms capable of holding with comfort fifty.
Chevenix was by Sanchia's side at the top of the stair, chatting
pleasantly about every new-comer, when he suddenly stopped. "Hulloa," he
said, "here's Morosine, as smooth as a glass stiletto. He'll amuse you.
I'll introduce him.
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