The remainder of the night passed in a whirlwind that neither Pamela Beesly nor James Halpert could have given a clear recollection of later. Champagne flowed freely, waltz compiled itself upon waltz, and by the time the proverbial clock struck midnight and the ball ceased its revel (a time that, upon the literal grandfather clock in Colonel Scott’s main hall, had more in common with two or three in the morning than with midnight) Pam was in full possession of Jim’s understanding about Michael and he of hers. From this warm discovery of a similar set of ideas about Michael, they moved on to consider the remainder of the company, whispering their insights into each other’s giggling ears upon a chaise longue and matching sofa in a discreet corner of the room that nevertheless provided a clear prospect on the rest of the ball. From there they quietly passed judgement on the rest of the world. It began innocently enough in a turn from their laughing discussion of their sympathy for Michael to a wonder at what he saw in Jan—whom they both fully respected, but whose utter, almost brutal focus and powerful stare seemed so opposite from the friendly but ridiculous effort Michael dispersed over as wide an area as possible with a quizzical smile—and thence into a consideration of Jan herself. Jim wondered at her coming to so many of Michael’s parties if she was so uninterested in him as she seemed; Pam reflected both that she was not so certain of that disinterest as Jim but more importantly (she thought) that this kind of social scene was the Dowager Duchess’s natural habitat—to borrow one metaphor, her symphony hall, with the people in it as her instruments; to test out another, her place of business, with the busy buzz of followers who hung upon her every word as the pronouncement of social deity as her stewards, substitutes, and lowly factors for her social gain. And indeed the social winds did seem to blow according to her whims, with everyone from the lowest cousin of a cousin to the almighty Patronesses of Almack’s hanging upon her vision of correct behavior, so to this great insight Jim could not but concede most handsomely (as, a small treacherous whisper deep in Pam suggested, he did all things).

However, while Jim was willing to admit her superiority of insight in the realm of Jan, he was not willing to concede her a greater understanding of this social world in general, for all she had a substantial head start upon him, having observed Michael’s parties for years now. In search of a suitable target for a demonstration of his own superiority of understanding, his eye lit upon his friend Ryan, in deep conversation with a young Indian woman he understood to be Kelly Kapoor, the eligible daughter of a rich nabob. His knowledge of this was not due to any deep familiarity with the lady in question, or with her family, but simply the ability to hear well, as Miss Kapoor had been discoursing at high volume to Mr. Howard on these and closely related points for some time, while simultaneously making a remarkable number of sausage rolls disappear, chasing them down with a cup of shaved ice decorated with flavored syrup. He watched his friend’s eyes flicker all around in apparent search for salvation before fastening on Miss Kapoor somewhat lower than her face. He pointed this behavior out to Miss Beesly, not considering until too late the potential impropriety of drawing her attention to such boorish actions on his friend’s part. Fortunately she seemed amused, if a little sad, declaring herself not unfamiliar with such masculine treatment of her own person and assuring him that Miss Kapoor deserved better, being a lovely lady in her own right with an intelligent mind—albeit one perhaps too devoted to fashion, though that itself might not be considered a mark against her in the current London season—and a warm heart. Jim admitted to how she seemed to be handling Ryan quite effectively—he was uncertain that he had ever seen his friend spend so much time with a single lady at an event that provided such variety—but deplored the possibility of her becoming too attached to Mr. Howard too quickly, given his known propensity to flirtation and dalliance rather than sincere attachment. He begged Miss Beesly, if it stood within honesty, to give Miss Kapoor some sense of this in an offhand way before she repined too closely upon Mr. Howard’s attentions. Pam undertook to do so, though she admitted both to Jim and to herself that she did not believe herself to have any great influence in that quarter.

A sudden movement caught Jim’s eye and he turned the conversation to Lieutenant Schrute, whom he saw emerging from the press around the refreshment table with two chocolates studded with some kind of nut and heading forcefully out of the room. The discussion of the good lieutenant took up much of their attention for a good while, with Jim insisting that he could not possibly be as self-involved as he appeared on the surface, while Pam sadly corrected him that while she held Dwight in the highest regard in terms of his rectitude, his sincere attachment to Colonel Scott, and his belief in the necessity of doing one’s duty, he was indeed as strange, self-absorbed, and conceited as his initial impression might convey. She saw a light kindle in Jim’s eyes at this news that she did not quite know how to account for, but dismissed it in favor of noting that Angela Martin, whom she had not expected to come (though she had, of course, been invited, being instrumental in the preparation of the event) was even now strolling into the room with a chocolate in her hand. She filed this information away for future reference as Jim asked her her opinion of her neighbor, noting that to him she appeared almost a female iteration of the same basic construction as Lieutenant Schrute. The amusement inherent in this observation distracted her from all other thoughts, and she endeavoured to simultaneously acknowledge the validity of the observation while protecting both of her friends from the calumny of being compared to each other without implying that to be compared to either was itself inherently an insult. She saw from the glowing amusement in his eyes that Jim was alive to the delicacy of her rhetorical situation, and appreciated his willingness to allow her to walk that particular verbal tightrope without excessively poking at her in such a way to cause her to topple. In this vein they turned to each of their acquaintances in the ballroom, whiling away the evening in their mutual enjoyment of the pastime.

Of course, what Pam had taken for amusement in Jim’s eyes was not merely that; there were strong admixtures of admiration and affection included in it as well, and while Pamela Beesly was as yet unwilling to admit their existence to herself (in Jim’s eyes or indeed her own), she was not the only observer or the only drawer of conclusions in the room. Mark saw, and congratulated himself on his earlier perspicacity; Ryan saw, in his frantic attempt to catch someone’s eye besides Kelly’s, and inwardly cursed Jim for having attracted a much less verbally prolific female; and Phyllis Lapin saw, from her perch near-but-not-too-near to the Dowager Duchess, and smiled to herself. It was nice to see that Halpert boy find a match for himself, even if it was with Roy Anderson’s fiancée. She had never thought much of Roy, certainly not as much as she thought of Pam Beesly, with whom she shared a warmth of understanding, and so she thought only “Good” as she watched them chatter away oblivious to her observation.