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THE ladies had left the room and the port was circulating. Mr. Scogan filled his glass, passed on the decanter, and, leaning back in his chair, looked about him for a moment in silence. The conversation rippled idly round him, but he disregarded it; he was smiling at some private joke. Gombauld noticed his smile.
“What’s amusing you?” he asked.
“I was just looking at you all, sitting round this table,” said Mr. Scogan.
“Are we as comic as all that?”
“Not at all,” Mr. Scogan answered politely. ‘I was merely amused by my own speculations.”
“And what were they?”
“The idlest, the most academic of speculations. I was looking at you one by one and trying to imagine which of the first six Cæsars you would each resemble, if you were given the opportunity of behaving like a Cæsar. The Cæsars
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