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'All decadent nations, said H. Stackton Dunckley, 'produce beautiful women it is one of the surest signs that they are going to pieces. The Romans did at the last, and Rome and England are parallel cases. As Mrs. Le Roy Jennings says, they are parasitic nations. What did the Romans add to Greek art?
'List to the pigmy praising the oracle, chanted the artist. 'I do not think, went on the American, 'that the English girls I have met are as bright or as clever as the cultured young women of the continent of America. In other words, with all her natural charm, the English girl does not edit herself well. 'In that, said H. Stackton Dunckley, 'she reflects the breed.
Jennings, not deigning the artist so much as a glance, 'skimming the earth of its surface riches, and rendering every place the poorer for his being there. There was an awesome silence, which no one seemed courageous enough to break. 'Yes, said H. Stackton Dunckley finally, 'and in addition England is decadent. 'But, Mr.
H. Stackton Dunckley protested that absence from the ladies, even for so short a time, would completely spoil his evening receiving in reward a languorous glance from Lady Durwent. Johnston Smyth, who had done more than ample justice to the wines, offered to 'pink' at fifty yards any man who would consider the proposition for a moment.
Until Friday, 'P.S. How is the play coming on? Dinner will be at 8.30. H. Stackton Dunckley put the letter down and sighed. He was an author who had been writing other men's ideas all his life, but without sufficient distinction to achieve either a success or a failure.
You have all seen the accusation in Mr. Selwyn's eye, you have considered the unbiassed evidence of the lovely Carlotti' 'But jurors can't give evidence, muttered Mr. Dunckley. 'My dear sir, I know she can't, but she did, said Smyth triumphantly. 'Oyez, oyez all in favour' 'But, interrupted the American, 'are we not to hear any one for the defence?
H. Stackton Dunckley had held the resolutionist in a duel of language a combat with broadswords and honours were fairly even. The short-sleeved Johnston Smyth had waged futurist warfare against the modernist Pyford, while the Honourable Miss Durwent sat helplessly between them, with as little chance of asserting her rights as the Dormouse at the Mad Hatter's tea-party.
'I am not widely known in my own country, and can hardly expect that you should know of me on this side of the Atlantic. 'What, said Mr. Dunckley 'what does New York think of "Precipitate Thoughts"? The American considered quickly. He wished that in conversation, as well as in writing, people would use inverted commas. 'Whose precipitate thoughts? he ventured.
He was dimly conscious that dinner was announced, and that amidst a babel of tongues he was being led by, or was leading, Lady Durwent into the dining-room. He heard the resolutionist and Dunckley both talking at once, and felt the melancholy languor of Pyford floating like incense through the air.
Dunckley in a voice which gave the impression that he had smoked too many cigars the previous evening an impression considerably strengthened by the bilious appearance of his face. 'Good-morning, sir. Will you have the Times or the Morning Post? And here are your letters, sir. The recumbent gentleman took the letters and waved them philosophically at the valet.
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