It is not often that a man has the temerity to do so.

Can I have the honour of offering you a whisky and soda ?" "Have we time ?" I asked.
"We have time," he said, solemnly consulting his watch.

"Things will ripen." "Then," said I, "I shall have much pleasure in drinking to their maturity." While we were drinking our whisky and soda he talked volubly of many things--his travels, his cats, his own incredible importance in the cosmos.

And as he sat there vapouring about the pathetically insignificant he looked more like Napoleon III than ever.

His eyes had the same mournful depths, his features the same stamp of fatality.