Mr. Britling Sees It Through by H. G. Wells

immense solemnity, like a dark ocean beneath the vast dome of the sky, and something quivered in every fibre of his being, like moonlit ripples on the sea. He felt at the same time a portentous stillness and an immense enterprise. …
    Then suddenly the pianola, pounding a cake-walk, burst out into ribald invitation. …
    â€œCome back to dance!” cried Cecily, like one from whom a spell has just been broken. And Mr. Direck, snatching at a vanishing scrap of everything he had not said, remarked, “I shall never forget this evening.”
    She did not seem to hear that.
    They danced together again. And then Mr. Direck danced with the visitor lady, whose name he had never heard. And then he danced with Mrs. Britling, and then he danced with Letty. And then it seemed time for him to look for Miss Cecily again.
    And so the cheerful evening passed until they were within a quarter of an hour of Sunday morning. Mrs. Britling went to exert a restraining influence upon the pianola.
    â€œOh! one dance more!” cried Cissie Corner.
    â€œOh! one dance more!” cried Letty.
    â€œOne dance more,” Mr. Direck supported, and then things really had to end.
    There was a rapid putting out of candles, and a stowing away of things by Teddy and the sons, two chauffeurs appeared from the region of the kitchen and brought Mr. Lawrence Carmine’s car and the visitor family’s car to the front door, and everybody drifted gaily through the moonlight and the big trees to the front of the house. And Mr. Direck saw the perambulator waiting—the mysterious perambulator—a little in the dark beyond the front door.
    The visitor family and Mr. Carmine and his young Indian departed. “Come to hockey!” shouted Mr. Britling to each departing car-load, and Mr. Carmine receding answered: “I’ll bring three!”
    Then Mr. Direck, in accordance with a habit that had been growing on him throughout the evening, looked round for Miss Cissie Corner and failed to find her. And then behold she was descending the staircase with the mysterious baby in her arms. She held up a warning finger, and then glanced at her sleeping burden. She looked like a silvery Madonna. And Mr. Direck remembered that he was still in doubt about that baby. …
    Teddy, who was back in his flannels, seized upon the perambulator. There was much careful baby stowing on the part of Cecily; she displayed an infinitely maternal solicitude. Letty was away changing; she reappeared jauntily taking leave, disregarding the baby absolutely, and Teddy departed bigamously, wheeling the perambulator between the two sisters into the hazes of the moonlight. There was much crying of good nights. Mr. Direck’s curiosities narrowed down to a point of great intensity. …
    Of course, Mr. Britling’s circle must be a very “Advanced” circle. …
    Â§ 10
    Mr. Direck found he had taken leave of the rest of the company, and drifted into a little parlour with Mr. Britling and certain glasses and siphons and a whisky decanter on a tray. …
    â€œIt is a very curious thing,” said Mr. Direck, “that in England I find myself more disposed to take stimulants and that I no longer have the need for iced water that one feels at home. I ascribe it to a greater humidity in the air. One is less dried and one is less braced. One is no longer pursued by a thirst, but one needs something to buck one up a little. Thank you. That is enough.”
    Mr. Direck took his glass of whisky and soda from Mr. Britling’s hand.
    Mr. Britling seated himself in an arm-chair by the fireplace and threw one leg carelessly over the arm. In his black velvet cloak and cap, and his black silk tights, he was very like a minor character, a court chamberlain, for example, in some cloak and rapier drama. “I find this weekend dancing and kicking about wonderfully wholesome,” he said. “That and our Sunday hockey. One starts the new week