The soirée begins as expected: lots of empty chatter. Yawn.
You want to talk about real ideas — about really doing some good. But the other ladies look at you as though you’ve got two heads.
Finally, you end up next to a young man.
“My name is Hugh,” he says. “What do you think of the labour movement? Isn’t it unfair people are being forced to work more than nine hours a day?”
Finally, a real conversation! He’s the most interesting one here, but his coat is terribly shabby. You see your friends pointing and giggling from across the room.
Do you talk to Hugh anyway, or excuse yourself?