Countess, and Miss Skeat put her arm in that of Claudius, inwardly
wondering how she could have overlooked the fact that he was so
excessively handsome. They sat at a round table on which were flowers,
and a large block of ice in a crystal dish.

"Do you understand Russian soups?" asked Margaret of Claudius, as she
deposited a spoonful of a wonderful looking _pâté_ in the middle of her
_consommé_.

"Alas" said the Doctor, "I am no gastronome. At least my friend Mr.
Barker tells me so, but I have great powers of adaptation. I shall
follow your example, and shall doubtless fare sumptuously."

"Do not fear," said she, "you shall not have any more strange and
Cossack things to eat. I like some Russian things, but they are so
tremendous, that unless you have them first you cannot have them at
all."

"I think it is rather a good plan," said Barker, "to begin with
something characteristic. It settles the plan of action in one's mind,
and helps the memory."

"Do you mean in things in general, or only in dinner?" asked the
Countess.

"Oh, things in general, of course. I always generalise. In conversation,
for instance. Take the traditional English stage father. He always
devotes himself to everlasting perdition before he begins a
sentence,--and then you know what to expect."