Confessions of a Well-Meaning Woman
including, I am sorry to say, Will, who was quite carried away by them—walked about saying very loudly “What I want is a drink.” . . .
And I had not had a word alone with Sir Adolphus. . .
“What about Consequences?,” asked some one.
We live and learn, as they say. I have discovered from my experience that week-end that a certain class cannot make a suggestion or ask a question without introducing it with the words “What about.” . . . They put me on my guard now; I feel, when I hear them, that I know where I am. . . But can you imagine a greater confession of failure than to propose such a game to fifteen or twenty grown men and women, all—presumably—in possession of their faculties?
“What about Characters?,” asked some one else. “That knocks spots off Consequences.”
I give you their argot in all its native elegance. You surely would not have me paint the lily. . .
Before one had time to enquire or protest, one had been set at a table and furnished with a pencil while the rules were explained. A list of qualities, characteristics, whatever you like to call them, was written down; a name was chosen, and we had each of us to award marks.
94
