Adventure stories; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Mystery fiction; Travel -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
'Lady Georgina has brains,' I answered; 'and they enable her to
recognise a fool when she sees him. I will admit that she does not
suffer fools gladly.'
He turned to me with a sudden sharp look in the depths of the
lack-lustre eyes. Already it began to strike me that, though the
pea-green young man was inane, he had his due proportion of a certain
insidious practical cunning. 'That's true,' he answered, measuring me.
'And according to her, almost everybody's a fool--especially her
relations. There's a fine knack of sweeping generalisation about deah
skinny old Georgey. The few people she reahlly likes are all archangels;
the rest are blithering idiots; there's no middle course with her.'
I held my peace frigidly.
'She thinks me a very special and peculiah fool,' he went on, crumbling
his bread.
'Lady Georgina,' I answered, 'is a person of exceptional discrimination.
I would almost always accept her judgment on anyone as practically
final.'
He laid down his soup-spoon, fondled the imperceptible moustache with
his tapering fingers, and then broke once more into a cheerful expanse
of smile which reminded me of nothing so much as of the village idiot.
It spread over his face as the splash from a stone spreads over a
mill-pond. 'Now that's a nice cheerful sort of thing to say to a
fellah,' he ejaculated, fixing his eye-glass in his eye, with a few
fierce contortions of his facial muscles. 'That's encouraging, don't yah
know, as the foundation of an acquaintance. Makes a good cornah-stone.
Calculated to place things at once upon what yah call a friendly basis.
Georgey said you had a pretty wit; I see now why she admiahed it. Birds
of a feathah: very wise old proverb.'
I reflected that, after all, this young man had nothing overt against
him, beyond a fishy blue eye and an inane expression; so, feeling that I
had perhaps gone a little too far, I continued after a minute, 'And your
uncle, how is he?'
'Marmy?' he inquired, with another elephantine smile; and then I
perceived it was a form of humour with him (or rather, a cheap
substitute) to speak of his elder relations by their abbreviated
Christian names, without any prefix. 'Marmy's doing very well, thank
yah; as well as could be expected. In fact, bettah. Habakkuk on the
brain: it's carrying him off at last. He has Bright's disease very
bad--drank port, don't yah know--and won't trouble this wicked world
much longah with his presence. It will be a happy release--especially
for his nephews.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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