waistcoats were too tight for comfort; even as those do who know there is nothing to pay. So when those that knew him went away from sitting in front of him they would say, one to another, with great satisfaction and joy, "He shook my hand seven times, and asked after the health of my great aunt"; or, "He gave me much chicken that was tender, and much sweet champagne, even too much," and they rejoiced, patting their digestions.
"Their waistcoats were too tight for comfort."
And there lived at this time another person who was quiet, and had a small professional business in a back street. And this party did not go forth of a morning to ask of the health of the wives and families of all he met; neither did he give little feasts which were of chicken and champagne. And his business was poor and of no account. Let us not talk of him.
And the affability of him that had the bright eye was large and liberal; so much that he would never say, concerning an influential person: "Behold, this is an influential person; therefore I will not shake his hand, neither will I give him little feasts of chicken and champagne, nor ask of the health of his wife and family."
And he would straightway treat the influential person as one would wish to be treated; asking after all his relations, even to the most distant, and even throwing in the relations of his wife; and he would give to him also chicken and champagne, the same as the others; yes, even more so.
And furthermore, he that had the bright eye would say of them that wrote puffs in the newspapers: "Shall I refuse to shake the hands of these, and to entertain them with affable conversation, merely because they write puffs in the newspapers?" and he answered and said, "No." And he didn't. Nay, he gave them twice the amount of the chicken and also of the champagne, that they might by no means feel lonesome and out in the cold; and this to the great tightening of their waistcoats.
But there was one habit of him that had the bright eye, and this habit was the most affable of all the habits he had, which were all affable.
"Champagne."
And this habit, which was more affable than the affability of all his other habits, was this: he would at all times of the day, and also of the night, embrace any he might meet that wrote puffs in the newspapers; and would straight-way take them into the private bar and drink with them all manner of drinks, either hot or cold, either tall or short, as might the most please and comfort them; so
