His anger burned up anew. So she counted
on his helplessness, had begun to count on that, had she? She should see
that there was life in the old dog yet! And his sacrifice of the uneaten
souffle, the still less eaten mushrooms, the peppermint sweet with which
he usually concluded dinner, seemed to consecrate that purpose. They all
thought he was a hulk, without a shot left in the locker! He had seen a
couple of them at the Board that afternoon shrugging at each other,
as though saying: 'Look at him!' And young Farney pitying him. Pity,
forsooth! And that coarse-grained solicitor chap at the creditors'
meeting curling his lip as much as to say: 'One foot in the grave!' He
had seen the clerks dowsing the glim of their grins; and that young pup
Bob Pillin screwing up his supercilious mug over his dog-collar. He
knew that scented humbug Rosamund was getting scared that he'd drop off
before she'd squeezed him dry. And his valet was always looking him up
and down queerly. As to that holy woman--! Not quite so fast! Not quite
so fast! And filling his glass for the fourth time, he slowly sucked
down the dark red fluid, with the "old boots" flavour which his soul
loved, and, drawing deep at his cigar, closed his eyes.
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