"
"And with all that money!" sighed the father.
"I don't believe they have the habit of wine at table.
I suspect that when they don't drink tea and coffee with
their dinner, they drink ice-water."
"Horrible!" said Bromfield Corey.
"It appears to me that this defines them."
"Oh yes. There are people who give dinners, and who are
not cognoscible. But people who have never yet given
a dinner, how is society to assimilate them?"
"It digests a great many people," suggested the young man.
"Yes; but they have always brought some sort of sauce
piquante with them. Now, as I understand you,
these friends of yours have no such sauce."
"Oh, I don't know about that!" cried the son.
"Oh, rude, native flavours, I dare say. But that isn't
what I mean. Well, then, they must spend. There is no
other way for them to win their way to general regard.
We must have the Colonel elected to the Ten O'clock Club,
and he must put himself down in the list of those willing
to entertain. Any one can manage a large supper. Yes, I see
a gleam of hope for him in that direction."
In the morning Bromfield Corey asked his son whether he
should find Lapham at his place as early as eleven.
"I think you might find him even earlier. I've never
been there before him. I doubt if the porter is there
much sooner.
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