“Why didn't you bring him along?”
Dogs were forbidden in the Cardew house, by old Anthony's order, as were pipes, especially old and beloved ones, but Lily was entirely reckless.
“He did follow me. He's probably sitting on the doorstep now. I tried to send him back, but he's an obstinate little beast.”
Lily got up.
“I am going to bring him in,” she said. “And if you'll ring that bell we'll get him some dinner.”
“I'll get him, while you ring.”
Half an hour later Anthony Cardew entered his house. He had spent a miserable evening. Some young whipper snapper who employed a handful of men had undertaken to show him where he, Anthony Cardew, was a clog in the wheel of progress. Not in so many words, but he had said: “Tempora mutantur, Mr. Cardew. And the wise employer meets those changes half-way.”
“You young fools want to go all the way.”
“Not at all. We'll meet them half-way, and stop.”
“Bah!” said Anthony Cardew, and had left the club in a temper. The club was going to the dogs, along with the rest of the world. There was only a handful of straight-thinking men like himself left in it. Lot of young cravens, letting their men dominate them and intimidate them.