To him, Arnold Denison, whom he had known slightly at Cambridge, was decidedly a goat. Arnold Denison came, at Eddy’s invitation, to supper at St. Gregory’s House one Sunday night. The visit was not a success. Hillier, usually the life of any party he adorned, was silent, and on his guard. Arnold, at times a tremendous talker, said hardly a word through the meal. Eddy knew of old that he was capable, in uncongenial society, of an unmannerly silence, which looked scornful partly because it was scornful, and partly because of Arnold’s rather cynical physiognomy, which sometimes unjustly suggested mockery. On this Sunday evening he was really less scornful than simply aloof; he had no concern with these people, nor they with him; they made each other mutually uncomfortable. Neither could have anything to say to the other’s point of view. Eddy, the connecting link, felt unhappy about it. What was the matter with the idiots, that they wouldn’t understand each other? It seemed to him extraordinarily stupid. But undoubtedly the social fault lay with Arnold, who was being rude. The others, as hosts, tried to make themselves pleasant--even Hillier, who quite definitely didn’t like Arnold, and who was one of those who as a rule think it right and true to their colours to show disapproval when they feel it. The others weren’t like that (the difference perhaps was partly between the schools which had respectively reared them), so they were agreeable with less effort. But the meal was not a success. It began with grace, which, in spite of its rapidity and its decent cloak of Latin, quite obviously shocked and embarrassed Arnold. (“Stupid of him,” thought Eddy; “he might have known we’d say it here.”) It went on with Peters talking about his Rugger club, which bored Arnold. This being apparent, the Vicar talked about some Cambridge men they both knew. As the men had worked for a time in St. Gregory’s parish, Arnold had already given them up as bad jobs, so hadn’t much to say about them, except one, who had turned over a new leaf, and now helped to edit a new weekly paper. Arnold mentioned this paper with approbation. “Did you see last week’s?” he asked the Vicar. “There were some extraordinarily nice things in it.” As no one but Eddy had seen last week’s, and everyone but Eddy thought _The Heretic_ in thoroughly bad taste, if not worse, the subject was not a general success. Eddy referred to a play that had been reviewed in it. That seemed a good subject; plays are a friendly, uncontroversial topic. But between Arnold and clergymen no topic seemed friendly. Hillier introduced a popular play of the hour which had a religious trend. He even asked Arnold if he had seen it. Arnold said no, he had missed that pleasure. Hillier said it was grand, simply grand; he had been three times.