English fiction -- 19th century; Victoria, Queen of Great Britain, 1819-1901 -- Fiction
The next afternoon, Nancy alighted at London Bridge a full quarter of an
hour late. It had been raining at intervals through the day, and clouds
still cast a gloom over the wet streets. Crewe, quite insensible to
atmospheric influence, came forward with his wonted brisk step and
animated visage. At Miss. Lord’s side he looked rather more plebeian
than when walking by himself; his high-hat, not of the newest, utterly
misbecame his head, and was always at an unconventional angle, generally
tilting back; his clothes, of no fashionable cut, bore the traces of
perpetual hurry and multifarious impact. But he carried a perfectly new
and expensive umbrella, to which, as soon as he had shaken hands with
her, he drew Nancy’s attention.
‘A present this morning, from a friend of mine in the business. I ran
into his shop to get shelter. Upon my word, I had no intention; didn’t
think anything about it. However, he owed me an acknowledgment;
I’ve sent him three customers from our office since I saw him last.
By-the-bye, I shall have half a day at the seaside on Monday. There’s
a sale of building-plots down at Whitsand. The estate agents run a
complimentary special train for people going down to bid, and give a
lunch before the auction begins. Not bad business.’
‘Are _you_ going to bid?’ asked Nancy.
‘I’m going to have a look, at all events; and if I see anything that
takes my fancy--. Ever been to Whitsand? I’m told it’s a growing place.
I should like to get hold of a few advertising stations.--Where is it
you are going to on Monday? Teignmouth? I don’t know that part of the
country. Wish I could run down, but I shan’t have time. I’ve got my work
cut out for August and September. Would you like to come and see the
place where I think of opening shop?’
‘Is it far?’
‘No. We’ll walk round when we’ve been up the Monument. You don’t often
go about the City, I daresay. Nothing doing, of course, on a Saturday
afternoon.’
Nancy made him moderate his pace, which was too quick for her. Part of
the pleasure she found in Crewe’s society came from her sense of being
so undeniably his superior; she liked to give him a sharp command,
and observe his ready obedience. To his talk she listened with a
good-natured, condescending smile, occasionally making a remark which
implied a more liberal view, a larger intelligence, than his. Thus, as
they stood for a moment to look down at the steamboat wharf, and Crewe
made some remark about the value of a cargo just being discharged, she
said carelessly:
‘I suppose that’s the view you take of everything? You rate everything
at market price.’
‘Marketable things, of course. But you know me well enough to
understand that I’m not always thinking of the shop. Wait till I’ve made
money.--Now then, clumsy!’
A man, leaning over the parapet by Nancy’s side, had pushed against her.
Thus addressed he glared at the speaker, but encountered a bellicose
look which kept him quiet.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account