The Fever of Life by Fergus Hume — Read

"Tis very hard to play the game of life; For tho' you keep your eye upon the board, And move your puppets in well-thought-out ways, Just when the winning seems within your grasp, Some pawn is touched by stealthy-fingered Chance, And straight the would-be victor looses all. "

In his dingy office sat Mr. Dombrain before his desk, in deep thought; and judging from the frown on his coarse face, his thoughts were not of the pleasantest. He bit his hard nails, he pulled at his stubbly red moustache, drummed on the table with his large hairy hands, and in fact displayed all the symptoms of a man very much disturbed in his mind. The cause of this disturbance was Mrs. Belswin, and, seeing that he was alone, Mr. Dombrain for the moment threw off his professional suavity and cursed the lady heartily. Had she been present, she would have laughed at his outburst of wrath; but as she had just left the room, he was free to make as rude remarks as he pleased, and he certainly took full advantage of his solitude. The wrath of Mrs. Belswin and the subsequent flattening out of Mr. Dombrain arose out of the following circumstance.