Host. “Nice party, ain’t it, Major Le Spunger? ’Igh and low, rich and poor,—most people are welcome to this ’ouse! This is ‘Liberty ’All,’ this is! No false pride or ’umbug about me! I’m a self-made man, I am!”
The Major. “Very nice party, indeed, Mr. Shoddy! How proud your father and mother must feel! Are they here?”
Host. “Well, no! ’Ang it all, you know, one must draw the line somewhere!”
A DANCE DIALOGUE
“A smartish affair this,” I said to the little man with the pale-blue eyes, who leant disconsolately against the wall.
He laughed nervously. I felt drawn to him, somehow. He appeared to know no one, and I knew very few intimately, and hadn’t succeeded yet in discovering the host and hostess.
“But I should say,” I went on, drawing inspiration from my new acquaintance’s sympathetic attention, “I should say it cost our host Sir Tumnal Tintz a pretty penny. The champagne is exactly up to par, and no stint.”
“Really, I’m glad to hear you say so.”
“Reassuring, isn’t it?”