THE HOSTESS _is receiving her Guests at the head of the staircase_; _a_ CONSCIENTIOUSLY LITERAL MAN _presents himself_. HOSTESS (_with a gracious smile, and her eyes directed to the people immediately behind him_). _So_ glad you were able to come--how do you _do_? THE CONSCIENTIOUSLY LITERAL MAN. Well, if you had asked me that question this afternoon, I should have said I was in for a severe attack of malarial fever--I had all the symptoms--but, about seven o'clock this evening, they suddenly passed off, and-- [_Perceives, to his surprise, that his Hostess's attention is wandering, and decides to tell her the rest later in the evening._ MR. CLUMPSOLE. How do you do, Miss Thistledown? Can you give me a dance? MISS THISTLEDOWN (_who has danced with him before_--once). With pleasure--let me see, the third extra after supper? Don't forget. MISS BRUSKLEIGH (_to Major Erser_). Afraid I can't give you anything just now--but if you see me standing about later on, you can come and ask me again, you know. MR. BOLDOVER (_glancing eagerly round the room as he enters, and soliloquising mentally_). She ought to be here by this time, if she's coming--can't see her though--she's certainly not dancing. There's her sister over there with the mother. She _hasn't_ come, or she'd be with them. Poor-looking lot of girls here to-night--don't think much of this music--get away as soon as I can, no _go_ about the thing!... Hooray! There she is, after all! Jolly waltz this is they're playing! How pretty she's looking--how pretty _all_ the girls are looking! If I can only get her to give me one dance, and sit out most of it somewhere! I feel as if I could talk to her to-night. By Jove, I'll try it! [_Watches his opportunity, and is cautiously making his way towards his divinity, when he is intercepted._ MRS. GRAPPLETON. Mr. Boldover, I do believe you were going to _cut_ me! (_MR. B. protests and apologises._) Well, _I_ forgive you. I've been wanting to have another talk with you for ever so long. I've been thinking so _much_ of what you said that evening about Browning's relation to Science and the Supernatural. Suppose you take me down stairs for an ice or something, and we can have it out comfortably together. [_Dismay of Mr. B._, _who has entirely forgotten any theories he may have advanced on the subject, but has no option but to comply_; _as he leaves the room with_ MRS. GRAPPLETON _on his arm, he has a torturing glimpse of_ MISS ROUNDARM, _apparently absorbed in her partner's conversation_.