Arnold Bennett - Imperial Palace

Evelyn was flattered once more by the confidence. He was saddened; but his sadness was not unpleasant; it had a quality of beauty. Strange, startling encounter, there in the handsome and comfortable room, after the perfect meal, the perfect wines, and in the middle of the perfect cigar! And flowers in their button-holes! Strange encounter with this dictatorial and ruthless specimen of the top-dog; prince of practitioners of company-mongering, whose schemes might and did imperil the happiness of thousands of under-dogs, and also many middle-dogs! All his wealth and all his power had not sufficed to save him from the fate of being himself, in a different sense, an under-dog too. Well might the man’s heart echo with the Psalmist’s intimidating ‘Be still, and know that I am God!’ Genuine and affecting sympathy for the survivor of the tragedy drew Evelyn towards Sir Henry. And yet, in the very moment of his compassion, he was thinking: “I bet it hasn’t prevented him from amusing himself since.”

“Now look here!” said Sir Henry in a voice suddenly strong and perhaps more domineering than he meant it to be, “I’ve not come here to make a nuisance of myself.”

“Not at all,” Evelyn mildly interjected.

“Yes, yes. A damned nuisance!” Sir Henry stood up and stood straight. “I’ve come here to try to do a bit of business, anyhow to begin it. You know what it is of course.”

“What I do know,” thought Evelyn, “is that whether you intended it or not, you and I’ll never be on a purely business footing again.” He kept silence and waited, merely waving his cigar as a sign of concurrence.

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