The respectability of the party was portentous.
The women were too nice to be well dressed, and
too sure of their position to be amusing. The men were solid.
There was about all of them an air of well-satisfied prosperity.

Everyone talked a little louder than natural in an instinctive
desire to make the party go, and there was a great deal of
noise in the room. But there was no general conversation.
Each one talked to his neighbour; to his neighbour on the
right during the soup, fish, and entree; to his neighbour on
the left during the roast, sweet, and savoury. They talked of
the political situation and of golf, of their children and the
latest play, of the pictures at the Royal Academy, of the
weather and their plans for the holidays. There was never a
pause, and the noise grew louder. Mrs. Strickland might
congratulate herself that her party was a success.
Her husband played his part with decorum. Perhaps he did not talk
very much, and I fancied there was towards the end a look of
fatigue in the faces of the women on either side of him.
They were finding him heavy. Once or twice Mrs. Strickland's eyes
rested on him somewhat anxiously.

At last she rose and shepherded the ladies out of one room.
Strickland shut the door behind her, and, moving to the other
end of the table, took his place between the K.C. and the
Government official. He passed round the port again and
handed us cigars. The K.C. remarked on the excellence of the
wine, and Strickland told us where he got it. We began to
chat about vintages and tobacco. The K.C. told us of a case
he was engaged in, and the Colonel talked about polo. I had
nothing to say and so sat silent, trying politely to show
interest in the conversation; and because I thought no one was
in the least concerned with me, examined Strickland at my
ease. He was bigger than I expected: I do not know why I had
imagined him slender and of insignificant appearance; in point
of fact he was broad and heavy, with large hands and feet, and
he wore his evening clothes clumsily. He gave you somewhat
the idea of a coachman dressed up for the occasion. He was a
man of forty, not good-looking, and yet not ugly, for his
features were rather good; but they were all a little larger
than life-size, and the effect was ungainly. He was clean
shaven, and his large face looked uncomfortably naked.
His hair was reddish, cut very short, and his eyes were small,
blue or grey. He looked c