never attempting to modify it so as to make it a pleasure instead
of a disagreeable duty."

"It won't do to generalise too widely, Van der Roet," said Sir
John. "Some of these good people surely enjoy their party-giving;
and, from my own experience of one or two houses of this sort, I
can assure you the food is quite respectable. The great
imperfection seems to lie in the utter want of consideration in the
choice of guests. A certain number of people and a certain
quantity of food shot into a room, that is their notion of a
dinner-party."

"Of course we understand that the success of a dinner depends much
more on the character of the guests than on the character of the
food," said Mrs. Sinclair; "and most of us, I take it, are able to
fill our tables with pleasant friends; but what of the dull people
who know none but dull people? What gain will they get by taking
counsel how they shall fill their tables?"

"More, perhaps, than you think, dear Mrs. Sinclair," said Sir John.
"Dull people often enjoy themselves immensely when they meet dull
people only. The frost comes when the host unwisely mixes in one
or two guests of another sort--people who give themselves airs of
finding more pleasure in reading Stevenson than the sixpenny
magazines, and who don't know where Hurlingham is. Then the sheep
begin to segregate themselves from the goats, and the feast is
manque."

"Considering what a trouble and anxiety a dinner-party must be to
the hostess, even under the most favouring conditions, I am always