could have managed a snipe fresh shot!
A desire to delay, to lengthen dinner, was strong upon him; there were
but the souffle' and the savoury to come. He would have enjoyed, too,
someone to talk to. He had always been fond of good company--been good
company himself, or so they said--not that he had had a chance of late.
Even at the Boards they avoided talking to him, he had noticed for a long
time. Well! that wouldn't trouble him again--he had sat through his last
Board, no doubt. They shouldn't kick him off, though; he wouldn't give
them that pleasure--had seen the beggars hankering after his chairman's
shoes too long. The souffle was before him now, and lifting his glass, he
said:

"Fill up."

"These are the special glasses, sir; only four to the bottle."

"Fill up."

The servant filled, screwing up his mouth.

Old Heythorp drank, and put the glass down empty with a sigh. He had
been faithful to his principles, finished the bottle before touching the
sweet--a good bottle--of a good brand! And now for the souffle!
Delicious, flipped down with the old sherry! So that holy woman was
going to a ball, was she! How deuced funny! Who would dance with a dry
stick like that, all eaten up with a piety which was just sexual
disappointment? Ah! yes, lots of women like that--had often noticed
'em--pitied 'em too, until you had to do with them and they made you as
unhappy as themselves, and were tyrants into the bargain. And he asked:

"What's the savoury?"

"Cheese remmykin, sir."

His favourite.

"I'll have my port with it--the 'sixty-eight." The man stood gazing with
evident stupefaction. He had not expected this. The old man's face was
very flushed, but that might be the bath. He said feebly:

"Are you sure you ought, sir?"

"No, but I'm going to."

"Would you mind if I spoke to Miss Heythorp, Sir?"

"If you do, you can leave my service."

"Well, Sir, I don't accept the responsibility."

"Who asked you to?"

"No, Sir...."

"Well, get it, then; and don't be an ass."

"Yes, Sir." If the old man were not humoured he would have a fit,
perhaps!

And the old man sat quietly staring at the hyacinths. He felt happy, his
whole being lined and warmed and drowsed--and there was more to come!
What had the holy folk to give you compared with the comfort of a good
dinner? Could they make you dream, and see life rosy for a little? No,
they could only give you promissory notes which never would be