"
Endymion smiled at his plate.
"Well, well, we will talk about it later on," said he.
He never quarrelled with Narcissus, whose foibles amused him, but for
whose slow judgment he had a more than brotherly respect.
* * * * * * * * *
The Westcotes, though (at due intervals and with due notice given) they
entertained as handsomely as the Lord Lieutenant himself, were not a
household to be bounced (so to speak) into promiscuous or extemporised
hospitality. For an ordinary dinner-party, Dorothea would pen the
invitations three weeks ahead, Endymion devote an hour to selecting his
guests, and Narcissus spend a morning in the Bayfield cellar, which he
supervised and in which he took a just pride. And so well was this
inelasticity recognised, so clearly was it understood that by no
circumstances could Endymion Westcote permit himself to be upset, that
none of the snowed-up company at "The Dogs" thought a bit the worse of
him for having gone home and left them to shift as best they could.
Dorothea, when at about half-past ten she put on her bonnet and cloak
and stepped down to visit them--the prisoners having by that time
cleared the pavement--found herself surrounded by a crew humorously
apologetic for their toilettes, profoundly envious of her better luck,
but on excellent terms with one another and the younger ones, at any
rate, who had borne the worst of the discomfort--enjoying the
adventure thoroughly.
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