chauffeur. He had been stopped twice on the road for not-exceeding the
limit as he believed, and was still a little ruffled. Was it not his
invariable principle to be moderate in speed as in all other things? And
his feeling at the moment was stronger even than usual, that the country
was in a bad way, eaten up by officialism, with its absurd limitations
of speed and the liberty of the subject, and the advanced ideas of
these new writers and intellectuals, always talking about the rights
and sufferings of the poor. There was no progress along either of those
roads. He had it in his heart, as he stood there on the pavement, to say
something pretty definite to John about interference with the liberty
of the subject, and he wouldn't mind giving old Felix a rap about his
precious destructive doctrines, and continual girding at the upper
classes, vested interests, and all the rest of it. If he had something
to put in their place that would be another matter. Capital and those
who controlled it were the backbone of the country--what there was left
of the country, apart from these d--d officials and aesthetic fellows!
And with a contraction of his straight eyebrows above his straight gray
eyes, straight blunt nose, blunter moustaches, and blunt chin, he kept a
tight rein on his blunt tongue, not choosing to give way even to his own
anger.

Then, perceiving Felix coming--'in a white topper, by Jove!'--he crossed
the pavement to the door; and, tall, square, personable, rang the bell.


CHAPTER II


"Well, what's the matter at Tod's?"