Then indeed I _had_ to make a protest. I had never imagined that we were to play with the names of the people actually in the room at that moment! More _execrable_ taste... I was only thankful that Will had not proposed so detestable a game and was sorry to see him taking such a lead in it. Personalities of all kinds I abominate; there is a new school of humour which fancies that it has been very clever when people of better breeding would only say that it had been unpardonably rude. Spenworth? Exactly! You could not have chosen a better example. And games of this kind always end in one way... "Surely," I pleaded, "we need not run the risk of hurting any one's feelings. If you take people who are known to us all by _reputation_..." "Oh, it's much more fun this way," I was assured by Will. "And there's no need for any one to be offended; all the questions are about _good_ qualities--charm and eloquence and so forth. If you think I have no charm, shove down a nought; that's much better than having 'Bad temper' and being given ten marks for it by everybody. I'll start, anyway, to give you all confidence." I _ought_ to have resisted more strongly, but I could not let them feel that I was what Will calls a "wet blanket" to everything they proposed. Already they had abandoned cards and interrupted their dancing out of deference to me... We began to play, and I confess that I found the game _mercilessly_ tiresome. Imagine! A list of thirty or forty questions, which you had to answer fourteen or fifteen times over! Then a pause, while the papers were collected and the marks added; then the totals and a great deal of discussion and laughter and sometimes rather ill-natured facetiousness. And then the whole thing over again!