He tried to be humorous with Mr.
Carrington, the higher mathematician, whom he took to have retired from some profession or business.

This was so signal a failure that he dropped humor and became important, telling them of his flat in town and his country-house, their size and their expensive furniture; he told them about his motor-cars, his exploits at regimental cricket, at polo and at golf.
He patronized every one with a splendid affability, every one except Sir Maurice; and him he addressed, with a flattering air of perfect equality, as "Maurice, old boy," or "Maurice, old chap," or plain "Maurice." He did shine; his agreeable exertions threw him into a warm perspiration; his nose shone especially; and they all hated him.
The Twins were busy handing round tea-cups and cakes, but they were aware that their mother's tea-party was a failure.

As a rule her little parties were so pleasant with their atmosphere of friendliness; and her guests went away pleased with themselves, her and one another.
The Terror was keenly alive to the effect of Captain Baster; and a faint persistent frown troubled his serenity.

Erebus was more dimly aware that her enemy was spoiling the party.

Only Sir Maurice and Mr.
Carrington really enjoyed the humorist; and Sir Maurice's enjoyment was mingled with vexation.
Every one had finished their tea; and they were listening to Captain Baster in a dull aggravation and blank silence, when he came to the end of his panegyric on his possessions and accomplishments, and remembered his grievance.