"You see, she wasn't beautiful. She was well-dressed and well-mannered
and she had grey eyes. Beyond that I haven't any distinct memory of what
she was like. And the astounding thing to me, when I look back on that
business, is the utter lack of any common interests. How _could_ I
expect her to take any notice of me? I was a book-worm. I couldn't do
any of the social tricks she admired. I knew as much about music as a
cow, and considered tennis a bore. And yet I wanted her. I wanted that
eighteen-year-old girl as I've never wanted anything since. I made
myself a door-mat for her feet, I took her impudence and said nothing, I
waited for her and made no complaint when she forgot to keep an
appointment. My mother saw it and did her best to help me (though it
wasn't much), for she wanted me to get married. This would have been a
good match, for it so happened that 'her people' were in a position to
advance me in my profession, as I called it.
"And strange to say, my persistence did make some impression. I did make
some headway. I chucked my books to one side, went in for tennis, and
even took girls up the river to Kingston and Bourne End, she being one
of them. It made a hole in the little bank account I had started, but I
suppose it was worth it. I met a lot of pretty girls; but I was not
after a pretty girl; I was after her. The river was a lot in my favour,
I believe. It so happened that Belvoir's young brother, a Charterhouse
boy, whom I knew slightly, nearly ran our punt down one Saturday with
his launch. It made a big impression on Gladys, my knowing young
Belvoir. You see she had been at school with Belvoir's cousin, so it all
worked in. In a way I suppose I was happy ... yes, it's a wonderful
thing, a tremendous thing to be in love; but all the same, I wouldn't
like to go through it again!
"So it stood, when one day in the autumn, the whole thing capsized. My
brother came back.
"He didn't come back like any other prodigal I ever heard of. No, he
came back in his own way, like a conquering hero, which he was. He came
back on an automobile.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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