“Familiar Quotations,”—I wish I could find an elegant and appropriate one for the occasion. I can think of several, entirely familiar to the most unlearned, but too forcible for a lady’s drawing-room. “Too late I stayed” would hardly do. I wonder what the fellow would have sung if “Too soon he’d come.” (_Throws down book._) I thought I could accept an invitation to an afternoon tea, because I need only say a word to her, see if she had changed, and leave. That seemed safe enough. Besides, Miss Montgomery chaffed me about coming, and wouldn’t have hesitated to make the most of it if I had stayed away. (_Looks about._) The room has not changed much. I wonder—here she is. Now, for all I have learned in four years, I would like to conceal myself in the scrap-basket, but it is out of the question. _Enter_ ESTHER. _E._ How do you do, Mr. Whitney? I am very glad to see you. (_They shake hands._) _H._ It is very good of you to say so, Esth—Miss Van Dyke. (_Aside._) I never felt so fresh in my life. _E._ It was nice of you to think of coming this afternoon instead of waiting until the crush to-morrow, when I should have an opportunity for no more than a word with you. _H._ (_aside_). She does not _look_ satirical. Why didn’t I bring some flowers or something? (_They sit. Aloud, with somewhat exaggerated ease of manner._) When one’s hostess receives all the world, one’s own reception cannot be a personal one. After four years I wished for something more positive. Perhaps I have been too bold, but an afternoon tea is so very impersonal, you know. _E._ (_a little embarrassed by his manner, aside_). Can it be that he does not wish our relations to be impersonal? Of course not! (_Aloud._) Yes, I know. Very impersonal indeed. I was thinking the same thing before you came. _H._ (_aside_). Yes, and I was thinking the same thing before I came. We haven’t either of us gotten on much. (_Aloud._) I was always an exacting sort of fellow, you know, so you will not be surprised at my coming to get a reception on my own account. _E._ (_aside_). I should think I did know. (_Aloud._) No, I am not surprised. (_A moment’s pause—with a slight effort._) So you are an exacting sort of fellow still? I am looking for the changes of four years, you see. _H._ (_significantly_). You may not find many, after all (_Somewhat gloomily._) The rose-color wears off one’s glasses somewhat in four years, to be sure, but I don’t think the perspective changes much. _E._ Don’t you? It strikes me that time reverses the glasses—that we find ourselves suddenly looking through the other end, and things that once were so large are a long way off, and have become extremely small. _H._ (_aside_). Which means, I suppose, that I have taken a back seat, and must keep at opera-glass distance. (_Aloud._) Things have no importance of their own, then? I suppose it is a good deal a matter of which way you look at it.