"It's a dog's life being a man," declared Doffen sententiously.
"You find it easier, no doubt, to be a monkey," said the Admiral.
"Well, anyway, I'd be a sort of relative of yours," said Doffen. "And it's as well to be on good terms with the devil, they say."
The Admiral laughed. This was a bad sign.
Ugh! So Doffen was going to be funny, and make jokes. That sort of polite conversation was a thing the Admiral detested; it was blank tomfoolery; soup without salt.
No; what he enjoyed was proper high temper on both sides like a couple of flints striking sparks. Anything short of that made life a washy, milk-and-watery dreariness. And most people, according to his opinion, were just a set of slack-kneed molly-coddles that sheered off at the first encounter. Devil take their measly souls! When he did happen to meet with a fellow-citizen who could get into a proper towering passion, he felt like falling on his neck out of sheer gratitude and admiration. Here, at last, was a man! Women he placed in a separate category: they were "fellow-creatures," just as rabbits, for instance, whose chief business in life was to have young ones.
Doffen, then, ought to have realised that the moment was not opportune for a coup de main. He had, however, only the day before, seen the Princess out for a long walk with young Endresen, and he felt he must act promptly, so he went on:
"You could make a happy man of me, Admiral!"
"You're happy enough as it is, man."
"No, not quite. There's one thing wanting."