"You may 'ave the music—fer me," said Will. (It was some allusion which I did not understand.) "Oh, all right! I'll come. But I intend to have my fun out of it."
You have stayed at Rock Hill? No? Well, I am not exaggerating when I use the word "perfection." A seventeenth-century Italian palace with gardens that put Cheniston and my brother-in-law Spenworth to shame; pictures that one somehow always thought were in the National Gallery... And, if you care for material comfort, as—I am not ashamed to say—I do, not having enjoyed enough of it to become blasée... "If you cannot be rich yourself, know plenty of rich people," as Will said the first night... In jest, of course...
If I wanted to make a criticism, I should say that Lady Erskine might have chosen her party on less catholic lines. As patron of the arts, Sir Adolphus is of course brought into contact with an entire world of artists, musicians, actors and the like which is outside my ken. He confessed that he liked "mixing people up" and trying to break down the very rigid barriers which separate the artistic people from the rest of us. I have not the slightest objection to that on principle, but, when it necessitates meeting a number of half-naked young actresses who truly honestly have no place in the artistic or any other world... And when they are allowed to set the tone of the house...
I reminded myself that, with the exception of Brackenbury Hall, I had not stayed in a country-house for I don't know how long. Nothing, I determined, should surprise me; in Rome... And so forth and so on. We arrived in time for dinner, and almost the first thing I knew was that Sir Adolphus was pressing upon me something which I think he called a "Maiden's Sigh", which of course I imagined was the well-known hock of that name. Why hock before dinner? Sherry, if you like... But I had determined that nothing should surprise me. I drank it—what it contained, I do not know, but it was cold and, I suppose, very strong, for it went straight to my head! I could drink nothing at dinner until I had consumed an entire tumbler of cold water. Indeed, I hardly knew what I was saying, but Sir Adolphus was talking so interestingly about Rossini that I only wanted to listen... Later, when I had proved myself a good listener, it would be my turn to talk about Will...
Now, you dine out very much more than I do. On those rare occasions when you meet somebody who can talk, is it not heart-breaking to have the conversation interrupted before you have half finished it? In the old days, when one turned like an automaton to one's other-hand neighbour half-way through dinner, it was sufficiently exasperating; but one did hope that, if one had not wearied one's companion too unwarrantably, he would come up in the drawing-room and resume what he had been saying. Nowadays dinner is little more than a bribe offered to so many women and men to induce them to play bridge with you rather than with some one else. The tables were already set, when we left the dining-room; Lady Erskine's last words were: "You won't be long, will you?"
I do not play. Even in old days I never mastered whist. And I hope you will not cry "Sour grapes", if I say that I do not wish to learn. I ask nothing better than a little music after dinner. If not too modern, it does not interfere with conversation, whereas the sight of a card-table freezes the most eloquent lips...
"What about a rubber before the others come up?," asked one of these young actresses. I had not caught her name and perhaps I am doing her a grave injustice; but, if I had not Lady Erskine's implied guarantee, I should have considered her... Well, let me say I should have been very much surprised at being asked to meet her...
"I am afraid you must not count on me," I said.
The young woman reckoned up the numbers present and asked:
"What about poker, then?"