“Why, you must find all the people within the circle charming and brilliant and desirable, and all those outside commonplace and dull, and not worth while. You must like the former and despise the latter. Oh, it’s quite simple, really!”
Marjorie smiled the smile she reserved for her husband’s excursions in wit. She thought, of course, that Azalea was joking.
“Now, there’s sometimes a little difficulty in classifying people who teeter on the edge,” she poised a nib on the golden circle to illustrate her point. “A little push one way or the other will decide which way they will go, and until they get pushed, I admit they are something of a problem. However, we’ll begin with the certainties, and then I’ll borrow a list from Lady Denby, so as to be sure not to overlook anybody . . . The Ministers’ wives—Mrs. Blaine, Mrs. Carewe, Mrs. Haldane, Mrs. Carmichael, Lady Denby . . .”
Azalea wrote rapidly for a few moments, carefully spelling the French names as she recalled them.
“Then the wife of the Black Rod: she goes everywhere—”
“And I like her,” interrupted Marjorie. “She’s not a bit stiff, is she?”
Azalea laughed and shook her head. Marjorie’s dread of women who were “stiff” and men who were “sarcastic”, amused her.
Between consultations with Lady Denby, the Parliamentary Guide and the Telephone Book, the invitations were issued, and Azalea sat back, sighing after her labours.
“Now you will have paid off all your tea obligations,” she said, “but you really must keep a list. Separate ones for luncheons, dinners and suppers. Probably, a dinner will be the next thing.”
“And who must I ask for dinner, when I give one?” enquired Marjorie, ignoring in her distress the rules of grammar.