Glimpse of an Ego
A small, round, rather prim man sat next to me at the snack counter; when he had finished his steak and kidney pie he asked for some biscuits and butter. Certainly, sir,' said the waitress. And cheese? " No, thank you,' said the small, round man; then he added : I don't cat cheese.' He made this superfluous pronouncement in a matter of fact tone. If he had said I can't eat cheese' one might have suspected him of angling for sympathy, of half hoping for an opportunity to acquaint us with the details of some gastric misfortune. But his voice reflected no trace of self-pity, or regret, or the desire to be sociable. There was perhaps the faintest touch of self- importance in the way he spoke the words; the fact of his not eating cheese conferred on him a certain singularity, and he could not resist drawing attention to it. A truly humble man would have said: No, thank you,' and left it at that. A flamboyant personality would have added Never touch' the stuff ' or Heaven forbid! ' Neither would have enriched life in the way the small, round man did.
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