Humorous stories; London (England) -- Fiction; Wealth -- Fiction
"It's in Manchester Square, very handy for the Wallace Gallery, and you
know how fond you are of pictures. It's on sale, furniture and all; but
it can be rented for a year to see how it suits us. Of course it may not
suit us a bit. I understand it has some lovely rooms. Charlie says it
would be exactly the thing for big receptions."
"_Big receptions_! I shall have nothing to do with it. Now we've lost
our children even this house is too big for us. And I know what the
houses in Manchester Square are. You've said all your life you hate
receptions."
"So I do. They're so much trouble. But one never knows what may
happen...! And with plenty of servants...!"
"You understand me. I shall have nothing to do with it. Nothing!"
"Darling, please, please don't excite yourself. The decision will rest
entirely with you. You know I shouldn't dream of influencing you. As if
I could! However, I've promised to meet Charlie there this morning. So I
suppose I'd better go. Carthew is late with the car." She tapped her
foot. "And yet I specially told him to be here prompt."
"Well, considering the hour he brought us home, he's scarcely had time
to get into bed yet. He ought to have had the morning off."
"Why? A chauffeur's a chauffeur after all. They know what they have to
do. Besides, Carthew would do anything for me."
"Yes, that's you all over. You deliberately bewitch him, and then you
shamelessly exploit him. I shall compare notes with Carthew. I can give
him a useful tip or two about you."
"Oh! Here he is!" said Eve, who had been watching out of the window. "Au
revoir, my pet. Here's Machin with your breakfast and newspapers. I
daresay I shall be back before you're up. But don't count on me."
As he raised himself against pillows for the meal, after both she and
Machin had gone, Mr. Prohack remembered what his mind had said to him a
few hours earlier about fighting against further complications of his
existence, and he set his teeth and determined to fight hard.
Scarcely had he begun his breakfast when Eve returned, in a state of
excitement.
"There's a young woman downstairs waiting for you in the dining-room.
She wouldn't give her name to Machin, it seems, but she says she's your
new secretary. Apparently she recognised my car on the way from the
garage and stopped it and got into it; and then she found out she'd
forgotten something and the car had to go back with her to where she
lives, wherever that is, and that's why Carthew was late for _me_." Eve
delivered these sentences with a tremendous air of ordinariness, as
though they related quite usual events and disturbances, and as though
no wife could possibly see in them any matter for astonishment or
reproach. Such was one of her methods of making an effect.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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