He was not Meysey Hill, but an Englishman of business, and he had only a small income. That knot also would be cut. "Now, step this way, Mr. . Hanging on the wall was a temple censer, bronze, moulded in the shape of a lotus blossom with stem and leaves—deadly as a club. After a while he spoke again. ‘When you’re my age, you’ll be just as hardheaded. You don’t wear a dinner coat with a flower in your button-hole, or last night’s shirt, or very glossy boots, nor do you haunt the drawing-room in the evening, or play at being musical.
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