Humorous stories; London (England) -- Fiction; Wealth -- Fiction
"Yes," murmured Mr. Prohack. "A comfortable enough theory. And I've
already heard it more than once from girls. But I've never seen any
confirmation of it in practice. And I don't believe it. I'll tell you
something about yourself you don't know. You're delighted to go over to
my son. And if I'd refused to let you go I should have had a martyr
instead of a secretary. You want adventure. You want a field for your
remarkable talent for conspiracy and chicane. You know by experience
there's little scope for it here. But under my son your days will be
breathless.... No, no! I don't wish to hear anything. Run away and get
on with your work. And you can telephone my decision to Charles. I'm now
going to get up and wear all my new neckties at once."
Miss Warburton departed in a state of emotion.
As, with all leisureliness, Mr. Prohack made himself beautiful to
behold, he reflected: "I'm very impulsive. I've simply thrown that girl
into the arms of that boy. Eve will have something to say about it.
Still, there's one complication off my chest."
Eve returned home as he was descending the stairs, and she blew him
upstairs again and shut the door of the bedroom and pushed him into the
privacy of the boudoir.
"It's all settled," said she. "I've signed the tenancy agreement for a
year. Charlie said I could, and it would save you trouble. It doesn't
matter the cheque for the first half-year's rent being signed by you,
only of course the house will be in my name. How handsome you are,
darling!" And she kissed him and re-tied one of the new cravats. "But
that's not what I wanted to tell you, darling." Her face grew grave. "Do
you know I'm rather troubled about Charlie--and your friend Lady
Massulam. They're off again this morning."
"My friend?"
"Well, you know she adores you. It would be perfectly awful
if--if--well, you understand what I mean. I hear she really is a widow,
so that--well, you understand what I mean! I'm convinced she's at least
thirty years older than Charlie. But you see she's French, and French
women are so clever.... You can never be sure with them."
"Fluttering heart," said Mr. Prohack, suddenly inspired. "Don't get
excited. I've thought of all that already, and I've taken measures to
guard against it. I'm going to give Charlie my secretary. She'll see
that Lady Massulam doesn't make any more headway, trust her!"
"Arthur, how clever you are! Nobody but you would have thought of that.
But isn't it a bit dangerous, too? You see--don't you?"
Mr. Prohack shook his head.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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