ave noticed chiefly in Scotchmen and in modern Greeks;
its origin is, I fancy, a desire to please, of which the root is pride,
not mere amiability or vanity, as in the Latin races. As unfortunately,
in Ridokanaki's case, it entirely lacked charm, people simply found him
tedious; especially women. On the other hand, in business or, indeed, in
anything _really serious_, Ridokanaki was quite royally frank, and
natural as a child; considering not at all the feelings of other people
and consequently irritating them very little. He had a supreme contempt
for petty diplomacy in such matters, regarding it as only worthy of a
commercial traveller. His absolute reliability and brutal frankness had
made him personally liked in the City, in spite of his phenomenal
success--a success that had led to an importance not merely social, but
political, and almost historical. Those who saw him in this blunt mood,
found him, for the first time, amusing. All really frank people _are_
amusing, and would remain so if they could remember that other people
may sometimes want to be frank and amusing too.

"There is a subtle difference," remarked Woodville, looking round,
"between Willis's and other restaurants. At all others one feels the
meal is a means to an end; somehow, here, it seems to be the end itself.
Eating is treated as a sacred rite, and in the public preparations of
sauces by a head waiter there is something of a religious sacrifice.
Look at the waiters, like acolytes, standing round the maitre d'hotel,
watching him."

"That's quite true," said Ridokanaki. "You mean people don't dine here
for amusement?"

It was not until the coffee and cigar stage was reached that Ridokanaki
suddenly said in his _earlier manner_, rather quickly and abruptly: "And
why don't you do something better, Mr. Woodville?"

"Could I be doing anything better?" said Woodville, laughing. "I
certainly couldn't be dining better."

His host blinked his eyes, waved his hand, and said quickly: "Any one
could do what you do for Sir James. It's quite ridiculous, with your
brains, that because your uncle didn't leave you a fortune, you should
have this absurd career. It isn't a career."

Woodville felt the delightful excitement beginning. To increase it, he
reminded himself how Ridokanaki, by a stroke of the pen, could move the
fate of nations, and then he turned cold at the thought that Ridokanaki
was in love with Sylvia.

"I know," he said, "that I am not doin