You must imagine yourself paying a call in a London drawing-room, and you must say nothing that would not be possible and indeed suitable in that _milieu_. To attempt to arouse any interest or show any intelligence is wrong, but then neither must you betray any sign of actual imbecility. Anything that approaches gibbering cannot be too strongly condemned. The players speak in turn and quotations are not allowed (at least not from living writers). The question as to whose talk is the smaller of the two is so much a matter of taste that the game can only be decided by an umpire or by the votes of the spectators. But there is seldom much doubt. It is not uncommon for one of the players to break down and become almost hysterical, and few can hold out long against one of the champions. Some people allow facial expression and general demeanour to count, but this I do not recommend. It gives some an unfair advantage, and I have known it lead to unpleasantness. Perhaps a short sample will give a better idea of the game than any description. I take one from a little tournament in which I competed a few days ago. I was highly commended, but it was thought I displayed a little too much intelligence. This is one of the pleasing features of Platitudes; when one loses, things like that are somehow said, as they are never said, for instance, at Bridge. From this specimen the beginner will learn the right style and method. Only by study of the best models and by constant practice can he attain anything like proficiency. _He._ What a world we live in, do we not? (_This is a very common opening._) _She._ Yes, to be sure. Dear, dear! _He._ The age is so complex, so full of rush and hurry. Everyone is running after money, are they not? _She._ They are not. I mean they are. _He_ (_heaving a sigh_). How sad it is! _She_ (_in a tone of gentle correction_). It is deplorable. Did you read Mr. Goldstein's speech the other day? I thought it so sweet! He said that the possession of wealth entailed great responsibilities. _He._ How like him! (_After a pause_) And how true! Yes, things are in a bad way. _She._ How one deplores these strikes. _He_ (_sternly_). They ought to be shot. _She._ Too dreadful. I think it is so terrible when quite nice people are positively inconvenienced. It makes one think of the French Revolution. _He._ Ah! Yes, the French Revolution. Well, well, the good old days are gone. _She._ Yes, they have quite gone. _He_ (_sighing heavily_). Dear, dear, dear, dear! May I have some teacake? _She._ Oh do! but I'm afraid they're cold. _He._ I like them cold. I think they are so much cooler then. _She._ They are a shade less warm. [_There was a short interval here when the supporters of each party gathered round and gave advice and encouragement. The lady seemed as fresh as a fiddle, but the man was very exhausted and had to have a spirituous stimulant. After a quarter-of-an-hour's interval the game was resumed._]