holding off from a direct profession of literary faith, a full
consistency or sincerity, and therefore dealt instead with certain
social topics, treating them with extraordinary humour and with a due
play of that power of ironic evocation in which his books abound. He
had a deal to say about London as London appears to the observer who
has the courage of some of his conclusions during the high-pressure
time--from April to July--of its gregarious life. He flashed his
faculty of playing with the caught image and liberating the wistful
idea over the whole scheme of manners or conception of intercourse of
his compatriots, among whom there were evidently not a few types for
which he had little love. London in short was grotesque to him, and
he made capital sport of it; his only allusion that I can remember to
his own work was his saying that he meant some day to do an immense
and general, a kind of epic, social satire. Miss Ambient's perpetual
gaze seemed to put to me: "Do you perceive how artistic, how very
strange and interesting, we are? Frankly now is it possible to be
MORE artistic, MORE strange and interesting, than this? You surely
won't deny that we're remarkable." I was irritated by her use of the
plural pronoun, for she had no right to pair herself with her
brother; and moreover, of course, I couldn't see my way to--at all
genially--include Mrs. Ambient. Yet there was no doubt they were,
taken together, unprecedented enough, and, with all allowances, I had
never been left, or condemned, to draw so many rich inferences.

After the ladies had retired my host took me into his study to smoke,
where I appealingly brought him round, or so tried, to some
disclosure of fond ideals. I was bent on proving I was worthy to
listen to him, on repaying him for what he had said to me before
dinner, by showing him how perfectly I understood. He liked to talk;
he liked to defend his convictions and his honour (not that I