Though I _called_ myself a total stranger, he knew very well who I was; indeed he told me that he had always wanted to meet Brackenbury and Spenworth (the Cheniston Romneys were, of course, his excuse)... We arranged a night ... though, when the time came, there was not more than the three of us. My relations with Spenworth are not so cordial that I derive the least pleasure from seeing him at my table; and one truly honestly _never_ knows how he is going to behave. Brackenbury... If you do not want to accept an invitation, it is surely possible to decline it _civilly_... "_That_ fellow!," cried Brackenbury. "He ought to be interned." "You really must not talk such nonsense," I said. "He is as loyal as you are." "I wouldn't touch him with a pole _before_ the war," said Brackenbury with his wonted elegance. "But _now_, when even his best friends refuse to meet him--" "Exactly," I interrupted. "You would like him to feel that that is our standard of sincerity and good-will." "But how is it _your_ concern?," he asked. "You've kept clear of that gang in the past, so why dirty your hands with it now? If you fancy you're going to get money out of him, or a job for Will, I warn you that you're no match for him. He'll _use_ you readily enough, but he never does anything for anybody without looking for a return. We don't _want_ these gentry in England." "I met him," I answered. "I liked him, I was _sorry_ for him. And, if I try to shew him a little kindness, I really cannot allow you, Brackenbury, to make yourself a ruler and a judge. Do I gather that you and Ruth would prefer _not_ to dine?" "If it's money you want, I'd almost pay you not to meet him. _That's_ how I feel about it."