Taking Shelton by the lapel, he drew him into the radius of the lamp,
where he examined him, smiling a slow smile. "Glad to see you, old chap.
I rather like your beard," he said with genial brusqueness; and nothing,
perhaps, could better have summed up his faculty for forming independent
judgments which Shelton found so admirable. He made no apology for the
smallness of the dinner, which, consisting of eight courses and
three wines, served by a butler and one footman, smacked of the same
perfection as the furniture; in fact, he never apologised for anything,
except with a jovial brusqueness that was worse than the offence. The
suave and reasonable weight of his dislikes and his approvals stirred
Shelton up to feel ironical and insignificant; but whether from a sense
of the solid, humane, and healthy quality of his friend's egoism, or
merely from the fact that this friendship had been long in bottle, he
did not resent his mixed sensations.

"By the way, I congratulate you, old chap," said Halidome, while driving
to the theatre; there was no vulgar hurry about his congratulations, no
more than about himself. "They're awfully nice people, the Dennants."

A sense of having had a seal put on his choice came over Shelton.

"Where are you going to live? You ought to come down and live near
us; there are some ripping houses to be had down there; it's really
a ripping neighbourhood. Have you chucked the Bar? You ought to do
something, you know; it'll be fatal for you to have nothing to do. I
tell you what, Bird: you ought to stand for the County Council."

But before Shelton had replied they reached the theatre, and their
energies were spent in sidling to their stalls. He had time to pass his
neighbours in review before the play began. Seated next to him was a