.

.

Not, in any way, a bad fellow, this Cardillac--but obsessed by a self-conscious conviction that the world was looking at him; the world never looks for more than an instant at self-consciousness, but it dearly loves self-forgetfulness, for that implies a compliment to itself.
Afterwards, in Cardillac's handsome and over-careful rooms, there was an attempt at depth.

The set--Lawrence, Galleon, Craven and five or six more--never thought about Life unless drink drove them to do so, and drink drove them to-night.

A long, thin man, Williamson by name, with a half-Blue for racquets and a pensive manner, had a favourite formula on these occasions: "But think of a rabbit now.