"
Mr. Rollo Wrissell belonged to one of the seven great families which
once governed--and by the way still do govern--England, Scotland
and Ireland. The members of these families may be divided into two
species: those who rule, and those who are too lofty in spirit even
to rule--those who exist. Mr. Rollo Wrissell belonged to the latter
species. His nose and mouth had the exquisite refinement of the
descendant of generations of art-collectors and poet-patronizers. He
enjoyed life--but not with rude activity, like the grosser members of
the ruling caste--rather with a certain rare languor. He sniffed and
savoured the whole spherical surface of the apple of life with those
delicate nostrils, rather than bit into it. His one conviction was
that in a properly--managed world nothing ought to occur to disturb or
agitate the perfect tranquillity of his existing. And this conviction
was so profound, so visible even in his lightest gesture and
glance, that it exerted a mystic influence over the entire social
organism--with the result that practically nothing ever did occur to
disturb or agitate the perfect tranquillity of Mr. Rollo Wrissell's
existing. For Mr. Rollo Wrissell the world was indeed almost ideal.
Edward Henry breathed to himself, "This is the genuine article."
And, being an Englishman, he was far more impressed by Mr.
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