Priscilla and Charybdis: A Story of AlternativesMoore, Frank Frankfort
General
Priscilla and Charybdis: A Story of Alternatives
Moore, Frank Frankfort
Fiction
“Who the devil would have thought that the chap had it in him?”
As for young Wingfield, he was nearly as much puzzled by the issue
of his interview with Mr. Dunning as that gentleman was himself. When
Dunning had left the house Jack hurried to the breakfast-room, whistling
an uncertain air. The butler blew out the spirit lamp that heated the
breakfast dishes, and laid the latter on the table, with the coffee.
But the moment he had left the room, Jack Wingfield put his hands in his
pockets and walked away from the breakfast table to one of the windows,
and, standing with his legs apart, stared out, allowing his omelette to
get chilled and the coffee milk to get a surface on it. Jack Wingfield
was also puzzled to account for all that had occurred. Dunning had
always occupied in his mind a place of the deepest respect; and his
attainments he had been accustomed to think of with something little
less than awe. And yet he had been able within twenty-four hours to
discover his gross incompetence and, moreover, to tell him of it, and
to send him away with no more ceremony than he had thought necessary to
employ in clearing out Farmer Verrall and his greyhounds!
The whole thing was too wonderful to be grasped immediately by such an
intellect as his. It required a deal of thinking out; so he stood at the
window staring at the garden for several minutes.
At last he too thought that he might make a brief summary of the
situation and its development up to that moment. He whirled round
and gazed at the breakfast things. Then he removed his hands from
his pockets, and doubling up his right struck the palm of his left
vigorously, saying:
“By the Lord Harry! She has made a man of me!”
CHAPTER XVII
When he told her that his mother would be greatly pleased if she would
pay her a visit, her face became roseate. She hesitated before answering
him. She had usually her wits about her, and rarely failed to see in a
moment the end of a matter of which the beginning was suggested to her;
but now everything before her was blurred. She could not utter even the
merest commonplace word in response.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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