Rebener laid his hand upon his arm. “Well, Jack,” he said, “hadn’t we better be getting up to my place? I don’t want to keep the other gentlemen waiting, and these Europeans have an awful habit of coming at the hour they are invited, and do not, as we do in America, in imitation of the ‘Snark,’ ‘dine on the following day.’ “Good-night, Ralph,” he waved his hand to the correspondent. “Drop around tomorrow; I may have something for you.” Then as they were going up in the elevator he confided to Edestone: “I am not so crazy about these two chaps that are coming to dinner tonight, but you know most of the good sort are at the front, or, if they happen to be in London, are too busy to waste their time on us Americans. Do you know, Jack, there is at this time quite a bit of feeling against us in England? Exactly what it is they resent it is hard to say. I certainly do not understand how they can expect us to take any part in this war with our population composed of people from every one of the countries that are engaged.” They had scarcely had time to take off their coats when Lord Denton and Mr. Karlbeck came in through the private entrance. Edestone was introduced, and after the two Americans had had their cocktails, both Englishmen having declined to indulge in this distinctly American custom, the four sat down to dinner. Rebener put “Lord Denton” on his right, Edestone on his left, while “Mr. Karlbeck” took the only remaining seat. The conversation was general, and Edestone found that both the Englishmen were evidently making an effort to be agreeable. “You are quite like an Englishman,” said “Lord Denton” addressing him. “I have known so few really nice Americans that I must say it is a most delightful surprise. When I was told that you were a great American inventor, I was prepared to see a fellow with the back of his neck shaved, who, while chewing gum, would seize my lapel and hold on to it while he insisted on explaining how I could save time and money by using his electrical self-starting dishwasher or some such beastly machine. When I visited New York two years ago, a committee had me in charge for three days. Their one idea seemed to be to force large cigars and mixed drinks on me at all hours of the day and night. One of these charming gentlemen, a particularly objectionable fellow, although he seemed to be very rich, was covered with diamonds and wore the most ridiculous evening clothes topped off with a yachting cap fronted with the insignia of some rowing club of which he had been admiral. He always referred to his one-thousand-ton yacht as his ‘little canoe,’ and took delight in telling exactly what it cost him by the hour to run, invariably adding that this amount did not include his own food, wines, liquors, and cigars. ‘We always charge that up to profit-and-loss account,’ he would say with a roar of laughter, in which he was joined by a group of his satellites.”