A call : $b The tale of two passionsFord, Ford Madox
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A call : $b The tale of two passions
Ford, Ford Madox
English fiction -- 20th century
A CALL
FORD MADOX HUEFFER
WORKS BY THE SAME AUTHOR
THE FIFTH QUEEN
PRIVY SEAL
THE FIFTH QUEEN CROWNED
THE SOUL OF LONDON
THE HEART OF THE COUNTRY
THE SPIRIT OF THE PEOPLE
THE HALF-MOON
MR. APOLLO
THE ENGLISH GIRL
A CALL
THE TALE OF TWO PASSIONS
BY
FORD MADOX HUEFFER
“We have a flower in our garden,
We call it Marygold:
And if you will not when you may,
You shall not when you wold.”
_Folk-Songs from Somerset_
LONDON
CHATTO & WINDUS
1910
CONTENTS
PART I
PART II
PART III
PART IV
PART V
EPISTOLARY EPILOGUE
PART I
A CALL
I
IT was once said of Mr. Robert Grimshaw: “That chap is like a
seal”--and the simile was a singularly just one. He was like a seal
who is thrusting his head and shoulders out of the water, and, with
large, dark eyes and sensitive nostrils, is on the watch. All that
could be known of him seemed to be known; all that could be known of
the rest of the world he moved in he seemed to know. He carried about
with him usually, in a crook of his arm, a polished, light brown
dachshund that had very large feet, and eyes as large, as brown, and
as luminous, as those of his master. Upon the occasion of Pauline
Lucas’s marriage to Dudley Leicester the dog was not upon his arm, but
he carried it into the drawing-rooms of the many ladies who welcomed
him to afternoon tea. Apparently it had no attractions save its clear
and beautiful colour, its excellent if very grotesque shape, and its
complete docility. He called upon a lady at tea-time, and, with the
same motion that let him down into his chair, he would set the dog
upon the floor between his legs. There it would remain, as motionless
and as erect as a fire-dog, until it was offered a piece of buttered
tea-cake, which it would accept, or until its master gave it a minute
and hardly audible permission to rove about. Then it would rove. The
grotesque, large-little feet paddled set wide upon the carpet, the long
ears flapped to the ground. But, above all, the pointed and sensitive
nose would investigate with a minute attention, but with an infinite
gentleness, every object within its reach in the room, from the line of
the skirting-board to the legs of the piano and the flounced skirts of
the ladies sitting near the tea-tables. Robert Grimshaw would observe
these investigations with an indulgent approval; and, indeed, someone
else once said--and perhaps with more justness--that Mr. Grimshaw
resembled most nearly his own dog Peter.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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