"There is a subtle difference," remarked Woodville, looking round, "between Willis's and other restaurants. At all others one feels the meal is a means to an end; somehow, here, it seems to be the end itself. Eating is treated as a sacred rite, and in the public preparations of sauces by a head waiter there is something of a religious sacrifice. Look at the waiters, like acolytes, standing round the maitre d'hotel, watching him."
"That's quite true," said Ridokanaki. "You mean people don't dine here for amusement?"
It was not until the coffee and cigar stage was reached that Ridokanaki suddenly said in his earlier manner, rather quickly and abruptly: "And why don't you do something better, Mr. Woodville?"
"Could I be doing anything better?" said Woodville, laughing. "I certainly couldn't be dining better."
His host blinked his eyes, waved his hand, and said quickly: "Any one could do what you do for Sir James. It's quite ridiculous, with your brains, that because your uncle didn't leave you a fortune, you should have this absurd career. It isn't a career."
Woodville felt the delightful excitement beginning. To increase it, he reminded himself how Ridokanaki, by a stroke of the pen, could move the fate of nations, and then he turned cold at the thought that Ridokanaki was in love with Sylvia.
"I know," he said, "that I am not doing any good, but I see no prospect of anything better."
Ridokanaki frowned, staring at Woodville rather rudely, and then said: "Of course we're both thinking of the same thing. I mean the same lady."
"Really, Mr. Ridokanaki, I have no idea what you are thinking about. But there is no lady who can possibly concern our conversation."
Ridokanaki looked at the clock. It immediately struck ten, tactfully, in a clear subdued tone.