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This business is my business. I think you are sometimes a little prone to forget that. If it seems good to me to strengthen your hand in your department that has nothing whatever to do with Twyning. And if it seems good to me to strengthen Twyning's hand in Twyning's department that has nothing whatever to do with you."
He had remained standing looking towards father and son precisely as he had stood and looked at the party's entry. Mr. Fortune glanced sharply at him and compressed his lips. "It is," he said shortly. He left the room. Twyning spoke his first words since his entry. "Well, there we are, old man."
And Twyning, "Well, I simply can't hit it off with you. That's all there is to it. I try to be friendly; but if you can't hear Lloyd George's name without taking up that kind of attitude, well, all I can say is you're trying to put up social barriers in a place where there's no room for social barriers, and that's in business."
He shouted again, "Ha!" He cried again, "Into my hands! Into my hands!" He abandoned himself to a rather horrible ecstasy of hate and passion. His face became rather horrible to see. His face became purple and black and knotted, and the veins on his forehead black. He cried aloud, "Harold! Harold! Twyning! Twyning!" He rather horribly mimicked Twyning. "Harold's such a good boy!
I really must beg of you not to fiddle with those scissors. Thank you. But they are, happily, quite apart from your work. I do not permit them to influence my opinion of you by one jot or tittle. You may entirely reassure yourself. May I inquire why you should have supposed I had changed my mind?" "Because I've just heard that you've told Twyning you're going to take him into partnership."
It would be to say she was coming back.... But she never wrote on the occasions of her return; they just met.... And she had never before written to the office. Mr. Fortune appeared at the communicating door. Sabre put the letter into his pocket and turned towards him. Mr. Fortune came into the room. With him was a young man, a youth, whose face was vaguely familiar to Sabre; Twyning behind.
I might have known Twyning would not be capable of such a breach of discretion.
This was what Sabre had remembered; and he went straight from young Perch to Twyning and recalled the conversation. Twyning said, "Hullo, still interested in the fair Effie?" "It's for young Perch over at Penny Green I'm asking. For his mother. He's a young man" Sabre permitted his eyes to rest for a moment on Harold, seated at his desk "and he feels he ought to join the army.
"Anything you want me about?" He lay back in his chair and stared, frowning, at the manuscript before him. "Nothing particular, if you're busy," Twyning said. "I just looked in." He advanced the paper in his hand and looked at it as if about to add something else. But he said nothing and stood by Sabre's chair, also looking at the manuscript. "That that book?" "M'm."
Twyning appeared. "Hullo, old man, heard the latest? I say, you look as if you're ready to take on the whole world." The enormous and imponderable world awfully unbalanced. Upside down. Extraordinarily unreal. Furiously real. Life, which had been a thing of the clock and of the calendar, became a thing of events in which there was no time, only events.
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