Doomsday by Warwick Deeping

In the library Fream unlocked his cigar cabinet and chose a cigar. He lit it, walked to the window, and stood looking at the formal garden and the park. A dancing faun,--joyously exultant upon a pedestal,--faced the setting sun. The foliage of the trees had a tinge of gold.

How much or how little he saw had no part in his decision, for to some men all that is possessed is nothing, and that which is not possessed but desired is the one thing that appears desirable. He sat down at his big desk, took a sheet of paper from a drawer, and remained motionless for a while with the hand that held the pen resting on the paper.