Soames always attended the General Meeting; it was considered better that he should do so, in case “anything should arise!” He glanced round with his close, supercilious air at the walls of the room, where hung plans of the mine and harbour, together with a large photograph of a shaft leading to a working which had proved quite remarkably unprofitable. This photograph⁠—a witness to the eternal irony underlying commercial enterprise⁠—still retained its position on the wall, an effigy of the directors’ pet, but dead, lamb.

And now old Jolyon rose, to present the report and accounts.