Every now and then they
looked at the board and made some encouraging remark to the gentlemen.
Mrs. Paley just round the corner had her cards arranged in long ladders
before her, with Susan sitting near to sympathise but not to correct,
and the merchants and the miscellaneous people who had never been
discovered to possess names were stretched in their arm-chairs with
their newspapers on their knees. The conversation in these circumstances
was very gentle, fragmentary, and intermittent, but the room was full of
the indescribable stir of life. Every now and then the moth, which was
now grey of wing and shiny of thorax, whizzed over their heads, and hit
the lamps with a thud.
A young woman put down her needlework and exclaimed, "Poor creature! it
would be kinder to kill it." But nobody seemed disposed to rouse himself
in order to kill the moth. They watched it dash from lamp to lamp,
because they were comfortable, and had nothing to do.
On the sofa, beside the chess-players, Mrs. Elliot was imparting a new
stitch in knitting to Mrs. Thornbury, so that their heads came very near
together, and were only to be distinguished by the old lace cap which
Mrs. Thornbury wore in the evening. Mrs. Elliot was an expert at
knitting, and disclaimed a compliment to that effect with evident pride.
"I suppose we're all proud of something," she said, "and I'm proud of my
knitting.
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