How much
less exacting is the position of the more lowly-placed man; my own,
for instance, on ordinary occasions. There may be two quails and an
egg-cup left when the footman reaches me, or even only the egg-cup,
but at least I have nobody but myself to consider.
But let us get away from food for the body, and consider food for the
mind. I refer to that intellectual conversation which it is the
business of the guests at a dinner-party to contribute. Not "What
shall we eat?" but "What shall be talk about?" is the question
which is really disturbing us as we tug definitely at our necktie and
give a last look at ourselves in the glass before following the
servant upstairs.
"Will you take in Miss Montmorency?" says our hostess.
We bow to Miss Montmorency hopefully.
"Er--jolly day it's been, hasn't it?"
No, really, we can't say anything about the weather. We must be
original.
"Er--have you been to any theatres lately?"
No, no, everybody says that. Well, then, what can we say? Let us try
again.
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