The warm atmosphere of the room had the perceptible charge of personalities.

People in almost every part of it were trying to look unconscious as they pointed out other people.
"Tell me about everybody--everybody," said Elfrida.
"H'm! I don't see anybody, that _is_ anybody, at this moment.

Oh, there's Sir Bradford Barker.

Regard him well, for a brave soul is Sir Bradford, Frida mine." "A soldier?
At this end of the century one can't feel an enthusiasm for killing." "Not in the least.

A member of Parliament who writes verses and won't be intimidated by Punch into not publishing them.