Then home and to dinner . We have a houseful of guests at present -- one of them an old statesman with a massive silver head , and eyes that have looked into people 's thoughts so long that you have an uncanny feeling that they can see right through your soul and read motives you dare not avow even to yourself . I was terribly in awe of him at first , but when I got acquainted with him I found him charming . He is not above talking delightful nonsense even to a girl . I sat by him at dinner , and he talked to me -- not nonsense , either , this time . He told me of his political contests and diplomatic battles ; he was wise and witty and whimsical . I felt as if I were drinking some rare , stimulating mental wine . What a privilege it is to meet such men and take a peep through their wise eyes at the fascinating game of empire-building ! I met another clever man a few evenings ago . A lot of us went for a sail on the harbour . Mrs. Braddon 's house party came too . We had three big white boats that skimmed down the moonlit channel like great white sea birds . There was another boat far across the harbour , and the people in it were singing . The music drifted over the water to us , so sad and sweet and beguiling that I could have cried for very pleasure . One of Mrs. Braddon 's guests said to me : `` That is the soul of music with all its sense and earthliness refined away . '' I had n't thought about him before -- I had n't even caught his name in the general introduction . He was a tall , slight man , with a worn , sensitive face and iron-grey hair -- a quiet man who had n't laughed or talked . But he began to talk to me then , and I forgot all about the others . I never had listened to anybody in the least like him . He talked of books and music , of art and travel .
He had been all XXXXX the world , and had seen everything everybody else had seen and everything they had n't too , I think .
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