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the point, but not in the least witty, which her manner of saying and
the bland look she gave me through her eye-glass made perfectly
irresistible. I felt light-hearted and buoyant. When I left her she said
to me:
“If you’ve got nothing better to do, come and see us on
Tuesday evening. Gilbert will be so glad to see you.”
“When he’s been a month in London he’ll know that he can
have nothing better to do,” said the admiral.
So, on Tuesday but rather late, I went to Jane’s. I confess I was
a little surprised at the company. It was quite a remarkable collection
of writers, painters and politicians, actors, great ladies and great
beauties: Mrs. Tower was right, it was a grand party; I had seen
nothing like it in London since Stafford House was sold. No
particular entertainment was provided. The refreshments were
adequate without being luxurious. Jane in her quiet way seemed to be
enjoying herself; I could not see that she took a great deal of trouble
with her guests, but they seemed to like being there, and the gay,
pleasant party did not break up till two in the morning. After that I
saw much of her. I not only went often to her house, but seldom went
out to luncheon or to dinner without meeting her. I am an amateur of
humour and I sought to discover in what lay her peculiar gift. It was
impossible to repeat anything she said, for the fun, like certain wines,
would not travel. She had no gift for epigram. She never made a
brilliant repartee. There was no malice in her remarks nor sting in her
rejoinders. There are those who think that impropriety, rather than
brevity, is the soul of wit; but she never said a thing that could have
brought a blush to a Victorian cheek. I think her humour was
unconscious and I am sure it was unpremeditated. It flew like a
butterfly from flower to flower, obedient only to its own caprice and
pursuivant of neither method nor intention. It depended on the way
she spoke and on the way she looked. Its subtlety gained by the
flaunting and extravagant appearance Gilbert had achieved for her;
but her appearance was only an element in it. Now of course she was
the fashion and people laughed if she but opened her mouth. They no
longer wondered that Gilbert had married a wife so much older than
himself. They saw that Jane was a woman with whom age did not
count. They thought him a devilish lucky young fellow. The admiral
quoted Shakespeare to me: “Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale
her infinite variety.” Gilbert was delighted with her success. As I