But the gaiters button them up finally, irremediably, for ever. I expect he was an archdeacon: he was saying: "You can't impose Western civilization upon an Eastern people--I believe I'm right in saying that there are over two hundred millions in our Indian Empire--without a little disturbance. I'm a Liberal you know, I've been a Liberal my whole life--family tradition--though I grieve to say I could _not_ follow Mr. Gladstone on the Home Rule question. It seems to me a good sign, this movement, an awakening among the people. But don't misunderstand me, my dear Sir, I am not making any excuses for the methods of the extremists. Apart from my calling--I have a natural horror of violence. Nothing can condone violence, the taking of human life, it's savagery, terrible, terrible." "They don't put it down with a strong enough hand," the stock-jobber was saying almost fiercely. "There's too much Liberalism in the East, too much namby-pambyism. It's all right here, of course, but it's not suited to the East. They want a strong hand. After all they owe us something: we aren't going to take all the kicks and leave them all the halfpence. Rule 'em, I say, rule 'em, if you're going to rule 'em. Look after 'em, of course: give 'em schools, if they want education--Schools, hospitals, roads, and railways. Stamp out the plague, fever, famine. But let 'em know you are top dog. That's the way to run an eastern country: I'm a white man, you're black; I'll treat you well, give you courts and justice; but I'm the superior race, I'm master here." The man who had looked round at me when I said "Here's luck!" was fidgeting about in his chair uneasily. I examined him more carefully. There was no mistaking the cause of his irritation. It was written on his face, the small close-cut white moustache, the smooth firm cheeks with the deep red-and-brown glow on them, the innumerable wrinkles round the eyes, and above all the eyes themselves, that had grown slow and steady and unastonished, watching that inexplicable, meaningless march of life under blazing suns. He had seen it, he knew. "Ah," I thought, "he is beginning to feel his liver. If he would only begin to speak. We might have some fun."