Inside the reception rooms were filled.
Mr. Blinks, insignificant even in his own house, moved to and fro among his guests.
Archdeacon Domb and Dean Sollem were standing side by side with their heads gravely lowered, as they talked, over the cups of tea that they held in their hands.
Mr. Blinks edged towards them.
"This'll be something pretty good," he murmured to himself as he got within reach of their conversation.
"What do you do about your body?" the Archdeacon was asking in his deep, solemn tones.
"Practically nothing," said the Bishop. "A little rub of shellac now and then, but practically nothing."
"You wash it, of course?" asked Dr. Domb.
"Only now and again, but far less than you would think. I really take very little thought for my body."
"Ah," said Dr. Domb reflectively, "I went all over mine last summer with linseed oil."