'Well, no,' said Mr. Foster, rather confusedly. 'There are--there are some reasons why I could not do so conveniently--in writing, I mean. Of course, I should be only too glad that both he and you should know Mrs.--Mrs. Foster, but I prefer waiting to introduce you personally on my arrival in New York; in case I cannot, there is yet a chance of my leaving by the same steamer. I see the others are making for the hotel, and I suppose, in my capacity of host, I ought to be the first there.' It was a very good dinner, and went off remarkably well. In addition to the company already named, there were present Mr. Wuff, the celebrated manager of the Great National Theatre, who was supposed to be devoted to the legitimate drama, and where the performances at present consisted in a short farce, followed by a long 'oriental spectacular burlesque,' introducing horses, elephants, camels, and dancing women; Viscount Koolese, who was supposed to be ruining himself for Mademoiselle Petitpois, who brought with him his friend Captain Clinker, the well-known gentleman rider, who said nothing, but whenever he was amused hissed loudly through his teeth as though he were cleaning a horse; a sound which seemed very unpleasant to the theatrical people present. There was another manager too--Mr. Hodgkinson of the Varieties--who kept up a running fire of argument throughout the dinner with Bryan Duval; the actor-author, whether he believed in it or not, maintaining that the drama should be the school of poetry and refinement, and that all the theatrical managers should be made with a view to that end--sentiments which Mr. Hodgkinson violently pooh-poohed, declaring that his chief aim was to give whatever amusement paid the best. 'Let 'em have it,' said Mr. Hodgkinson, who prided himself on being an eminently practical man, striking his fist upon the table; 'dogs and monkeys, Shakespeare, the "Perfect Cure," Tom Mugger in four farces a night; or old Bounce here as Charles Surface, and all the rest of the Sheridan fakement--and the public is always wanting one or other of them, and my notion is, give them all a turn.' Mr. Foster had placed Miss Montressor on his right hand, and though there was, of course, no opportunity and no occasion for returning to the subjects which they had touched upon in the park, he kept up a constant conversation with her. When the party was about breaking up, he proposed that she should return to town in his Victoria, where, as the night was somewhat cold, she would be warmer and more comfortable than in Bryan Duval's phaeton. Miss Montressor gladly accepted the offer, and, of course, Mr. Duval made no difficulty. He would, he thought, propose to drive Blanche Wogsby home, and take the opportunity of finding out whether she was really such a fool as she looked, or whether there would be any use in writing a part for her.