I had chronic bronchitis which prostrated me time and again that autumn.

Having heard from mutual friends that Oscar's illness did not hinder him from dining out and enjoying himself, I received his plaints and requests with a certain impatience, and replied to him curtly.

His illness appeared to me to be merely a pretext.

When my play was accepted his demands became as insistent as they were extravagant.
Finally I went back to Paris in September to see him, persuaded that I could settle everything amicably in five minutes' talk: he must remember our agreement.
I found him well in health, but childishly annoyed that my play was going to be produced and resolved to get all the money he could from me by hook or by crook.

I never met such persistence in demands.