“Greening’s taste is unimpeachable,” De Grost declared, setting down his glass empty. “No use being a director of a city business, you know, unless one interests oneself personally in it. Greening’s judgment is simply marvelous. I have never tasted a more beautiful wine. If the boom in sherry does come,” he continued complacently, “we shall be in an excellent position to deal with it.”
Bernadine laughed softly.
“Oh, my friend—Peter Ruff, or Baron de Grost, or whatever you may choose to call yourself,” he said, “I am indeed wise to have come to the conclusion that you and I are too big to occupy the same little spot on earth!”
De Grost nodded approvingly.
“I was beginning to wonder,” he remarked, “whether you would not soon arrive at that decision.”
“Having arrived at it,” Bernadine continued, looking intently at his companion, “the logical sequence naturally occurs to you.”
“Precisely, my dear Bernadine,” De Grost asserted. “You say to yourself, no doubt, ‘One of us two must go!’ Being yourself, you would naturally conclude that it must be I. To tell you the truth, I have been expecting some sort of enterprise of this description for a considerable time.”
Bernadine shrugged his shoulders.
“Your expectations,” he said, “seem scarcely to have provided you with a safe conduct.”
De Grost gazed reflectively into his empty glass.