Still more bewildered, Paul turned to his invisible partner. "May I ask
where YOU are dining?"

"Certainly; at home in Curzon Street," returned the pretty voice. "It
was raining so, I did not go out."

"And--Lord Billington?" faltered Paul.

"Oh, he's in Scotland--at his own place."

"Then, in fact, nobody is dining here at all," said Paul desperately.

There was a slight pause, and then the voice responded, with a touch of
startled suggestion in it: "Good heavens, Mr. Bunker! Is it possible you
don't know we're dining by telephone?"

"By what?"

"Telephone. Yes. We're a telephonic dinner-party. We are dining in our
own houses; but, being all friends, we're switched on to each other,
and converse exactly as we would at table. It saves a great trouble and
expense, for any one of us can give the party, and the poorest can equal
the most extravagant. People who are obliged to diet can partake of
their own slops at home, and yet mingle with the gourmets without
awkwardness or the necessity of apology. We are spared the spectacle, at
least, of those who eat and drink too much. We can switch off a bore at
once. We can retire when we are fatigued, without leaving a blank space
before the others. And all this without saying anything of the higher
spiritual and intellectual effect--freed from material grossness of
appetite and show--which the dinner party thus attains. But you are
surely joking! You, an American, and not know it! Why, it comes from
Boston. Haven't you read that book, 'Jumping a Century'? It's by an
American."

A strange illumination came upon Paul. Where had he heard something like
this before? But at the same moment his thoughts were diverted by the
material entrance of a footman, bearing a silver salver with his dinner.
It was part of his singular experience that the visible entrance of this
real, commonplace mortal--the only one he had seen--in the midst of this
voiceless solitude was distinctly unreal, and had all the effect of an
apparition. He distrusted it and the dishes before him. But his lively
partner's voice was now addressing an unseen occupant of the next chair.
Had she got tired of his ignorance, or was it feminine tact to enable
him to eat something? He accepted the latter hypothesis, and tried to
eat. But he felt himself following the fascinating voice in all the
charm of its youthful and spiritual inflections. Taking advantage of its
momentary silence, he said gently,--

"I confe