Paxton had called him Polypheme because of his monocle: Polypheme, the one-eyed, wheel-eyed Cyclops. Tit for mythological tat. In future, he would always call Paxton Silenus.
'Bravo!' shouted Paxton. Gregory winced and gasped under a second, heartier slap. 'Pretty high class, this party. Eh, Hermione? Pretty cultured, what? It isn’t every day that a hostess can hear her guests shooting Greco-Roman witticisms at one another. I congratulate you, Hermione.' He put his arm round her waist. 'I congratulate you on us.'
Hermione disengaged herself. 'Don't be a bore, Paxton,' she said impatiently.
Paxton laughed theatrically. 'Ha, ha!' A villain's laugh on the melodrama stage. And it was not his laughter only that was theatrical; his whole person parodied the old-time tragedian. The steep aquiline profile, the deeply sunken eyes, the black hair worn rather long—they were characteristic. 'A thousand apologies;' he spoke with an ironical courtesy. 'The poor colonial forgets himself. Boozy and ill-mannered boor!'
'Idiot!' said Hermione, and moved away.
Gregory made a movement to follow her; but Paxton caught him by the sleeve. 'Tell me,' he enquired earnestly, 'why do you wear a monocle, Polypheme?'
'Well, if you really want to know,' Gregory answered stiffly, 'for the simple reason that I happen to be short-sighted and astigmatic in the left eye and not in the right.'
'Short sighted and astigmatic?' the other repeated in tones of affected astonishment. 'Short sighted and astigmatic? God forgive me—and I thought it was because you wanted to look like a duke on the musical comedy stage.'
Gregory’s laugh was meant to be one of frankly amazed amusement. That anyone should have imagined such a
