The hallmak of civility, the polite enquiry of others.

I sit down opposite the writer who has been moderately
successful
in a life devoted to scribbling. He mentions his latest
efforts. They are short pieces, and as I have known him for
many years, I know as he talks of them they have been
pecked from his life. I feel they have the intellectual range
of a pigeon, as I feign interest.

Then I wait for him to enquire about what I have been doing
but nary an enquiry, except '...still writing your blog.'
I know he has never deigned to look at it, I also know that
curiosity is the mark of intelligence, I also am aware
that polite enquiry, as I showed to him, is a mark of
civility and plain old good manners.
But I don't refer to  any of these things because... he is not
a well man.