At Dinner
This interest in all things gives English people time for everything.
A London reception is bright and amusing. In the early part of the evening statesmen, diplomats, and older people are in the majority; at eleven o’clock those who have been to the play arrive, and a little later the actors themselves. From the staircase people can best be seen. It is always crowded by those who are on their way to pay respects to the hostess in the hall above, and by those who have already done so and are on their way down to the supper-room. Above and below a dense crowd elbow and talk around and through you. You are slowly twisted past your hostess and through the parlors, and then finally back to the staircase, down which you can go as slowly as you please. No one is in a hurry—so out into the early morning, between rows of uniformed coachmen standing like sentries sleeping on their post.
Your Hostess
LONDON PEOPLE
ONCE upon a time, judging by John Leech’s pictures of English women (who could do almost everything in those days but manage their hoop-skirts), they were all short and became instantly stout when they arrived at forty. If Leech was right, English women must have changed very much since then. It may be that they grew tall to more closely resemble Du Maurier’s goddesses. In many cases they have succeeded, as may be seen at Lord’s or at any fashionable race-course. There may not be a variety of good looks, but one type is very beautiful. So strong is the family likeness, they might all be handsome sisters. There was something very sweet and lovable about that plump little woman of Mr. Leech’s. I only met her in reality after she had grown into a sweet old lady, and I should have regretted not having seen her before had I not seen her tall granddaughters.