Under certain circumstances there are few hours in life more agreeable than the hour dedicated to the ceremony known as afternoon tea. There are circumstances in which, whether you partake of the tea or not—some people of course never do—the situation in itself is delightful. Those that I have in mind in beginning to unfold this simple story offered an admirable setting to an innocent pastime. The implements of the little feast had been disposed upon the lawn of an old country-house, in what I should call the perfect middle of a splendid summer afternoon. Part of the afternoon had waned, but much of it was left, and what was left was of the finest and rarest quality. Real dusk would not arrive for many hours, but the flood of summer light had begun to ebb, the air had grown mellow, the shadows were long upon the smooth, dense turf. They lengthened slowly, however, and the scene expressed the sense of leisure still to come which is perhaps the chief source of one’s enjoyment of such a scene at such an hour. From five o’clock to eight is on certain occasions a little eternity, but on such an occasion as this the interval could be only an eternity of pleasure.

From “The Portrait of a Lady,” by Henry James.

Don’t you feel a delightful feeling of relaxation when you read this prose? Don’t you feel like having a cup of tea or coffee with a friend?   Henry James with his masterful prose can evoke on you nostalgia of the old times when people had time to talk to friends and enjoyed each other’s company.