It is extraordinary how religion hardens the heart,
Harding. Do you see that fellow, a great nose, lumpy shoulders,
trousers too short for him, a Hebrew barrel of grease--Rosental. You
know him; I bought that clock from him. He's looking into it to see
if anything has been broken, if it is in as good condition as when
he sold it. The brutes have all joined the 'knock-out,' and there--"
As he said these words young Mr. Rowe, who believed himself to be
connected with society, and who dealt largely in pictures, without,
however, descending to the vulgarity of shop-keeping (he would
resent being called a picture-dealer), approached and insisted on
Sir Owen listening to the story of his difficulties with some county
councillors who could not find the money to build an art gallery.
"But I object to your immortality being put on the rates."
"You write books, Mr. Harding; I can't."
As soon as he left them, Harding, who knew the dealer kind, the
original stock and the hybrid, told an amusing story of Mr. Rowe's
beginnings; and Owen forgot his sentimental trouble; but the story
was interrupted by Lady Ascott coming down the room followed by her
attendants, her literary and musical critics.
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