Of course, the new men think it'll end in manner and convention; and the old men don't quite know _what_ to say.

Well, it don't much matter.

If he's genius, he'll do as he likes--and if he hasn't--' Lord Findon shrugged his shoulders, and then, throwing back his head against the back of his capacious chair, proceeded to 'sip' his tea, held in both hands, according to an approved digestive method--ten seconds to a sip--he had lately adopted.

He collected new doctors with the same zeal that he spent in pushing new artists.
Eugenie put out a hand and patted his shoulder tenderly.

She and her father were the best of comrades, and they showed it most plainly in Lady Findon's absence.