His face was closely shaven, except for a thin, silky, black moustache, which he wore with long waxed ends. He was foppishly dressed in the latest fashion, and displayed a profusion of jewellery. But there was something about him so arrogant and self-opinionated, something so coldly contemptuous of other men’s feelings and opinions whenever they chanced to clash with his own, that Lionel had not been ten minutes in his company before he said to himself that Mr. Percy Osmond was very different from Mr. Percy Osmond’s brother, and could never be included by him among the few men he numbered as his friends. “So you want to pin me down to a date, do you?” said Kester as they sat down in the smoking-room at the club. “I should certainly like to fix you, now that I am here,” answered Lionel. “How would this day fortnight suit you?” “No time could suit me better. And if Mr. Osmond will honour me by coming down to Park Newton at the same time, I need hardly say how pleased I shall be to see him there.” “Very kind of you, I’m sure,” said Osmond. “Glad to run down to your place, especially as St. George is going. Am thinking of buying a quiet little country roost myself. Town life is awfully wearing, you know.” Kester laughed aloud. “Osmond would commit suicide before he had been in the country a month,” he said. “He is one of those unhappy mortals who cannot live away from bricks and mortar. The shady side of Pall Mall is dearer to him than all the county lanes and hayfields in the world.” “You do me an injustice—really,” said Osmond. “Some of my tastes are quite idyllic. No one, for instance, could be fonder of clotted cream than I am. I never shoot, myself—haven’t muscle enough for it, you know—yet I have a weakness for grouse pie that almost verges on the sublime.” “Or the ridiculous,” interposed Kester. “By-the-by, I hope you are not without a billiard-table at your place,” said Osmond, with that affected little cough which was peculiar to him. “We have a table on which you shall play all day long if you choose,” said Lionel. “Then I’ll come. Country air and billiards charming combination! Yes, you may expect to see me at the same time that you see St George.” He made a memorandum of the date in his tablets; and after a little further talk, he shook hands with Lionel and went, leaving the two cousins together. Kester looked after him with a sneer. “There goes another gilded fool,” he said. “I thought you introduced him to me as your particular friend,” said Lionel. “I called him my particular friend because he is rich. I can’t afford to call any poor man my friend.” “My reason for inviting him to Park Newton was partly because I thought it would please you to have him there at the same time as yourself, and partly out of compliment to his brother, whom I respect and like exceedingly.”