England -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; English fiction -- 20th century; Short stories, English
“Nobody better, nobody better,” the Colonel agreed, with a solemn
cordiality--and we all looked at the new member’s legs for some moments.
“Well, as I was saying,” the Colonel then resumed, “George Langhorn and
I became real friends; but I was abroad on service for two or three
years after he came back from Bonn and got into harness in Savile Row,
and so I lost sight of him for a bit. But after I’d been home a few
months, I was passing through town on my way to the Riviera, on six
weeks’ leave, and I dropped in at his place and saw him. I found him in
a sad way--very depressed and down in the mouth, railing against the
business, utterly sick of it. He told me he couldn’t endure the sight of
a frock-coat, and spent all his time at home in pyjamas and a
dressing-gown--just because those were portions of apparel not supplied
by Stretchley’s. Morbid, of course, but sad, very sad! It looked to me
as if he was on the verge of a breakdown, and I took a strong line with
him. I told him that he owed it to himself to take a complete
holiday--to get right away from the shop for a bit, to forget all about
it, to put plenty of money in his pocket, and give himself a real
holiday--he told me he hadn’t taken more than a week here and there for
two years. I said: ‘I’m just off to Monte Carlo. You come with me. Sink
the shop--dismiss it from your mind--and come along.’ Well, he saw how
wise I was, made his arrangements, and joined me at Charing Cross three
days later. Off we went, and a very good time we had of it. George was a
handsome young fellow of four or five and twenty, with lots to say for
himself, and a very taking way with women. Nobody knew who he was, but I
and my friends gave him a good start, and he could take care of the rest
for himself. In point of fact I received a great many compliments on the
good taste I showed in choosing my travelling companion. Ah, yes, we had
very good fun!” The Colonel leant back in his chair for a moment, with
a smile of pleasant--possibly of roguish--reminiscence.
“No signs of the tragedy yet, Colonel,” said I.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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