tudio in New York one Friday afternoon for the mere
purpose of idling and drinking, he seeming to have nothing better to do
for the time being, he suddenly suggested, and as though it had but now
occurred to him, that we all adjourn to his country house on Long
Island, which was not yet quite finished (or, rather, furnished), but
which was in a sufficient state of completion to permit of appropriate
entertainment providing the necessaries were carried out there with us.

As I came to think of this afterward, I decided that after all it was
not perhaps so unpremeditated as it seemed and that unconsciously we
served a very useful purpose. There was work to do, suggestions to be
obtained, an overseer, decorator and landscape gardener with whom
consultations were absolutely necessary; and nothing that X---- ever did
was without its element of calculation. Why not make a gala affair of a
rather dreary November task--

Hence--

At any rate the majority of us forthwith agreed, since plainly it meant
an outing of the most lavish and pleasing nature. At once four
automobiles were pressed into service, three from his own garage and one
specially engaged elsewhere. There was some telephoning _in re_ culinary
supplies to a chef in charge of the famous restaurant below who was _en
rapport_ with our host, and soon some baskets of food were produced and
subsequently the four cars made their appearance at the entryway below.
At dusk of a gray, cold, smoky day we were all bundled into
these--poets, playwrights, novelists, editors (he professed a great
contempt for actors), and forthwith we were off, to do forty-five miles
between five-thirty and seven p.m.

I often think of that ride, the atmosphere of it, and what it told of
our host's point of view. He was always so grave, serene, watchful yet
pleasant and decidedly agreeable, gay even, without seeming so to be.
There was something so amazingly warm and exotic about him and his, and
yet at the same time something so cold and calculated, as if after all
he were saying to himself, "I am the master of all this, am
stage-managing it for my own pleasure." I felt that he looked upon us
all not so much as intimates or friends as rather fine birds or
specimens of one kind and another, well qualified to help him with art
and social ideas if nothing more--hence his interest in us. Also, in his
estimation no doubt, we reflected some slight color or light into his
life, which he craved. We ha