“Oh!” said Lascelles. “I see no occasion for that. If you think that Mr Strange’s magic is not safe then it will soon get about.”

Later in the day a dinner was given in Mr Norrell’s honour at a house in Great Titchfield-street, at which Mr Drawlight and Mr Lascelles were also present. It was not long before Mr Norrell was asked to give his opinion of the Shropshire magician.

“Mr Strange,” said Mr Norrell, “seems a very pleasant gentleman and a very talented magician who may yet be a most creditable addition to our profession, which has certainly been somewhat depleted of late.”

“Mr Strange appears to entertain some very odd notions of magic,” said Lascelles. “He has not troubled to inform himself of the modern ideas on the subject – by which I mean, of course, Mr Norrell’s ideas, which have so astonished the world with their clarity and succinctness.”

Mr Drawlight repeated his opinion that Mr Strange’s red hair had no wear in it and that Mrs Strange’s gown, though not exactly fashionable, had been of a very pretty muslin.

At about the same time that this conversation was taking place another set of people (among them Mr and Mrs Strange) was sitting down to dinner in a more modest dining-parlour in a house in Charterhouse-square. Mr and Mrs Strange’s friends were naturally anxious to know their opinion of the great Mr Norrell.

“He says he hopes that the Raven King will soon be forgot,” said Strange in amazement. “What do you make of that? A magician who hopes the Raven King will soon be forgot! If the Archbishop of Canterbury were discovered to be working secretly to suppress all knowledge of the Trinity, it would make as much sense to me.”

“He is like a musician who wishes to conceal the music of Mr Handel,” agreed a lady in a turban eating artichokes with almonds.

“Or a fishmonger who hopes to persuade people that the sea does not exist,” said a gentleman helping himself to a large piece of mullet in a good wine sauce.

Then other people proposed similar examples of folly and everyone laughed except Strange who sat frowning at his dinner.

“I thought you meant to ask Mr Norrell to help you,” said Arabella.

“How could I when we seemed to be quarrelling from the first moment we met?” cried Strange. “He does not like me. Nor I him.”

“Not like you! No, perhaps he did not like you. But he did not so much as look at any other person the whole time we were there. It was as if he would eat you up with his eyes. I dare say he is lonely. He has studied all these years and never had any body he could explain his mind to. Certainly not to those disagreeable men – I forget their names. But now that he has seen you – and he knows that he could talk to you – well! it would be very odd if he did not invite you again.”