Do you tend to make friends easily?
I'm afraid you are missing the point, my dear.
Imagine you'd encounter me at the Junior Greys, or at one of Lady Wintermore's garden parties. At first, I would not seem a great risk to you. Slightly mysterious perhaps, but not more so than any other person you've just met. I'd be the gentleman standing a little removed from the main crowd, at the outer end of the terrace. Rather bland, non-irritating face. Spectacles. Good, if slightly unimaginative clothing. My sister Val usually criticises me for it. She's in the fashion business, you know.
If we engaged in conversation, you'd surely think I'm a rather good catch, considering the lacklustre occasion. I try not to alienate people. At least not until I really have to. So' you'd register the first tactless joke not until it's already too late and you are already laughing.
If you got hold of the hostess a little while later, you'd discreetly point into my direction and ask "Who on earth was this?" and as Lady Wintermore usually delights in dragging people's corpses out of their closets, she'd tell you about me: "That's just Albert Campion. Poor chap. Still hasn't given up on that obscure detective hobby of is. You've no idea of the disgusting and most dangerous things that he normally deals with."
This is the moment when you're starting to wonder if I'm respectable enough to be seen with. Or at least someone useful to have on the B-list of your acquaintances, should the dreaded emergency ever arrive.
See, I tend to make friends rather easily. But only a minor proportion of them lasts longer than just ten minutes.
Imagine you'd encounter me at the Junior Greys, or at one of Lady Wintermore's garden parties. At first, I would not seem a great risk to you. Slightly mysterious perhaps, but not more so than any other person you've just met. I'd be the gentleman standing a little removed from the main crowd, at the outer end of the terrace. Rather bland, non-irritating face. Spectacles. Good, if slightly unimaginative clothing. My sister Val usually criticises me for it. She's in the fashion business, you know.
If we engaged in conversation, you'd surely think I'm a rather good catch, considering the lacklustre occasion. I try not to alienate people. At least not until I really have to. So' you'd register the first tactless joke not until it's already too late and you are already laughing.
If you got hold of the hostess a little while later, you'd discreetly point into my direction and ask "Who on earth was this?" and as Lady Wintermore usually delights in dragging people's corpses out of their closets, she'd tell you about me: "That's just Albert Campion. Poor chap. Still hasn't given up on that obscure detective hobby of is. You've no idea of the disgusting and most dangerous things that he normally deals with."
This is the moment when you're starting to wonder if I'm respectable enough to be seen with. Or at least someone useful to have on the B-list of your acquaintances, should the dreaded emergency ever arrive.
See, I tend to make friends rather easily. But only a minor proportion of them lasts longer than just ten minutes.