Again his eyes dilated, utterly black, to the eyes of the other man,
and an arch little smile flickered on his face.

"I think it would matter very much indeed," said the landlady. "They
had far better NOT govern themselves."

She was, for some reason, becoming angry. The little greenish doctor
emptied his glass, and smiled again.

"But what difference does it make," said Aaron Sisson, "whether they
govern themselves or not? They only live till they die, either way."
And he smiled faintly. He had not really listened to the doctor.
The terms "British Government," and "bad for the people--good for
the people," made him malevolently angry.

The doctor was nonplussed for a moment. Then he gathered himself
together.

"It matters," he said; "it matters.--People should always be
responsible for themselves. How can any people be responsible for
another race of people, and for a race much older than they are,
and not at all children."

Aaron Sisson watched the other's dark face, with its utterly exposed
eyes. He was in a state of semi-intoxicated anger and clairvoyance.
He saw in the black, void, glistening eyes of the oriental only the
same danger, the same menace that he saw in the landlady. Fair, wise,
even benevolent words: always the human good speaking, and always
underneath, something hateful, something detestable and murderous.