"I do write a little," said Leonard, nervously.
"I believe in action rather than in writing," said Derrington. "There are far too many books written. Dreamers, all of you."
"Dreams may come true."
"And when they do come true, what is the use of them? Bah! In my young days we lived. Now people dream."
"I'm sure there's no dreaming about society nowadays," said Mrs. Ward, laughing. "Every one is as sharp as a needle to get the better of his or her neighbor."
"Mutual Deception Society," said Derrington. "You-give-me-so-much-and-I'll-let-you-go-so-far. That's the sort of thing."
"But there is a great deal of philanthropy nowadays."
"And what good does philanthropy do, Mr. Train?" said Derrington; "only makes people lazy. People are too sentimental. I would give half these paupers the cat if I had my way."
Train was quite sure that he would, for, with his red face and heavy jowl and savage air of command, he looked the picture of a Roman emperor. Derrington had the instincts of a despot, and Leonard could imagine him slaying and burning and doing all manner of evil things. He wondered how Brendon ever came to have such a villainous grandfather. It was on the tip of his tongue to say something about Brendon, just to observe the effect on Derrington. But his courage failed him and he held his peace. And at that moment Fate intervened. The drawing-room door opened, and a servant announced, "Mr. Brendon!"
The next moment George came face to face with his grandfather.