"Never," said the Duke.
"Come and dine with me."
"I am not a member of the club."
"We don't care at all about that. Anybody can take in anybody."
"Does not that make it promiscuous?"
"Well;—no; I don't know that it does. It seems to go on very well. I daresay there are some cads there sometimes. But I don't know where one doesn't meet cads. There are plenty in the House of Commons."
"There is something in that, Silverbridge, which makes me think that you have not realised the difference between private and public life. In the former you choose your own associates and are responsible for your choice. In the latter you are concerned with others for the good of the State; and though, even for the State's sake, you would not willingly be closely allied with those whom you think dishonest, the outward manners and fashions of life need create no barriers. I should not turn up my nose at the House of Commons because some constituency might send them an illiterate shoemaker; but I might probably find the illiterate shoemaker an unprofitable companion for my private hours."
"I don't think there will be any shoemakers at the Beargarden."
"Even if there were I would go and dine with you. I shall be glad to see the place where you, I suppose, pass many hours."
"I find it a very good shop to dine at. The place at the House is so stuffy and nasty. Besides, one likes to get away for a little time."