a few moments he found himself with Mr Melmotte in the chamber
which had been dignified with the name of the book-room. The great
financier was accustomed to spend his Sunday afternoons here,
generally with the company of Lord Alfred Grendall. It may be supposed
that he was meditating on millions, and arranging the prices of money
and funds for the New York, Paris, and London Exchanges. But on this
occasion he was waked from slumber, which he seemed to have been
enjoying with a cigar in his mouth. 'How do you do, Sir Felix?' he
said. 'I suppose you want the ladies.'

'I've just been in the drawing-room, but I thought I'd look in on you
as I came down.' It immediately occurred to Melmotte that the baronet
had come about his share of the plunder out of the railway, and he at
once resolved to be stern in his manner, and perhaps rude also. He
believed that he should thrive best by resenting any interference with
him in his capacity as financier. He thought that he had risen high
enough to venture on such conduct, and experience had told him that
men who were themselves only half-plucked, might easily be cowed by a
savage assumption of superiority. And he, too, had generally the
advantage of understanding the game, while those with whom he was
concerned did not, at any rate, more than half understand it. He
could thus trade either on the timidity or on the ignorance of his
colleagues. When neither of these sufficed to give him undisputed
mastery, then he cultivated the cupidity of his friends. He liked
young associates because they were more timid and less greedy than
their elders. Lord Nidderdale's suggestions had soon been put at rest,
and Mr Melmotte anticipated no greater difficulty with Sir Felix. Lord
Alfred he had been obliged to buy.

'I'm very glad to see you, and all that,' said Melmotte, assuming a
certain exaltation of the eyebrows which they who had many dealings
with him often found to be very disagreeable; 'but this is hardly a
day for business, Sir Felix, nor,--yet a place for business.'

Sir Felix wished himself at the Beargarden. He certainly had come
about business,--business of a particular sort; but Marie had told him
that of all days Sunday would be the best, and had also told him that
her father was more likely to be in a good humour on Sunday than on
any other day. Sir Felix felt that he had not been received with good
humour. 'I didn't mean to intrude, Mr Melmotte,' he said.

'I dare say not. I o