Suddenly we are
bidden to rise and betake ourselves elsewhere; to sit on other chairs
in a different temperature among different surroundings. It is a
wrench. That peculiar atmosphere is dissipated; the genius of the
earlier moment driven out beyond recapture; we must adapt ourselves to
other conditions and begin anew, often with a good deal of
trouble--often, how often, against our inclination! I call that a
perverse custom. Every state of the mind, whether we are in society or
alone, should be pressed to the last drop, irrespective of whether we
happen to have swallowed a final mouthful of food or not. When the
conversation has died, as everything must die, from sheer inability to
draw further breaths of life, then is the time to break up that old
encircling dome of thought; to construct a fresh one, if need be, in a
fresh environment."
"I confess," said the American, "it has always struck me as rather
barbarous--this running away. I like to linger. But the ladies don't.
They know that their dresses show off better in a parlour than under a
boards of a mahogany table; perhaps their conversation, too, sounds
better among arm-chairs and rugs.
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