- suring himself that the talk of these efficient people
was lacking in brilliance and real depth, and expressed sentiments which, microscopically viewed, did not appear to be astoundingly original. If these had been less remarkable persons he would have thought their conversation almost platitudinous. And not one of these much-talked-about men, whatever else he might have done, could have written Men Who Loved Alison! Kennaston cherished that reflection as he sedately partook of a dish he recollected to have seen described, on menu cards, as "Hungarian goulash" and sipped sherry of no very extraordinary flavor. . . .
He was to remember how plain the fare was, and more than once, was to refer to this meal—quite casually—beginning "That reminds me of what Such-an-one said once, when I was lunching with him," or perhaps, "The last time I lunched with So-and-so, I remember—" With such gambits he was able, later on, to introduce to us of Lichfield several anecdotes which, if rather point-*less, were at least garnished with widely-known names.
