the incomprehensible and discourteous custom prevails of keeping
the host and the dinner waiting for half an hour or more--without
any assignable reason and without any better excuse than the
purely formal apology that is implied in the words, "Sorry to be
late."

Arriving at the appointed time at the house of Mr. and Mrs.
Germaine, we had every reason to congratulate ourselves on the
ignorant punctuality which had brought us into the drawing-room
half an hour in advance of the other guests.

In the first place, there was so much heartiness, and so little
ceremony, in the welcome accorded to us, that we almost fancied
ourselves back in our own country. In the second place, both
husband and wife interested us the moment we set eyes on them.
The lady, especially, although she was not, strictly speaking, a
beautiful woman, quite fascinated us. There was an artless charm
in her face and manner, a simple grace in all her movements, a
low, delicious melody in her voice, which we Americans felt to be
simply irresistible. And then, it was so plain (and so pleasant)
to see that here at least was a happy marriage! Here were two
people who had all their dearest hopes, wishes, and sympathies in
common--who looked, if I may risk the expression, born to be man
and wife. By the time when the fashionable delay of the half hour
had expired, we were talking together as familiarly and as
confidentially as if we had been all four of us old friends.

Eight o'clock struck, and the first of the English guests
appeared.