"We are therefore forced to the conclusion that pure altruism is
impossible in connection with neo-psychology."

There was more, but it was at that point that Warble went to sleep.

She was awakened later by the high notes of a celebrated Metropolitan
soprano, who had consented to exchange a few of her liquid notes for
Goldwin Leathersham's yellow-backed ones.

Tired, hungry and sleepy, Warble fidgeted in her little gilt chair, but
the music went inexorably on.

It was followed by the appearance of a Neo Poet.

This man wore eccentric dress of some sort, and as he waited for the
applause to melt away, he stood, absent-mindedly picking crumbs out of his
beard.

By subtle hint of auto-suggestion this made Warble hungrier than ever and
she looked around for Petticoat. But he was busy flirting with Daisy Snow,
and it was not Warble's way to cut in.

In hollow tones the performer read extracts, excerpts and exceptions from
the works of Amy Lynn, Carl Sandpiper and Padriac, the Colyumist, and
Warble went back to sleep.

There was more, but no merrier, and when at last the platform was cleared
for the last time, the guests were refreshed by the passing of a small
glass of punch and a wafer to each.