His co-directors, too! Old Heythorp! How are the
mighty fallen! And that hound jubilant!
His valet passed across the room to shut the window and draw the
curtains. This chap too! The day he could no longer pay his wages, and
had lost the power to say "Shan't want your services any more"--when he
could no longer even pay his doctor for doing his best to kill him off!
Power, interest, independence, all--gone! To be dressed and undressed,
given pap, like a baby in arms, served as they chose to serve him, and
wished out of the way--broken, dishonoured!
By money alone an old man had his being! Meat, drink, movement, breath!
When all his money was gone the holy woman would let him know it fast
enough. They would all let him know it; or if they didn't, it would be
out of pity! He had never been pitied yet--thank God! And he said:
"Get me up a bottle of Perrier Jouet. What's the menu?"
"Germane soup, sir; filly de sole; sweetbread; cutlet soubees, rum
souffly."
"Tell her to give me a hors d'oeuvre, and put on a savoury."
"Yes, sir."
When the man had gone, he thought: 'I should have liked an oyster--too
late now!' and going over to his bureau, he fumblingly pulled out the
top drawer.
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