The confessions of a well-meaning womanMcKenna, Stephen
General
The confessions of a well-meaning woman
McKenna, Stephen
English fiction -- 20th century; Upper class -- England -- Fiction; Women -- England -- Fiction
I had to beg for enlightenment. And I am not ashamed to confess that
his explanation, when it came, greatly increased my respect for him.
The father, one gathered, was an estate-agent and surveyor in
Devonshire, _highly_ esteemed, but neither a millionaire himself nor
in a position to make his son a millionaire simply by wishing it.
The boy had realized everything--war-bonus, wound-gratuity and the
rest--and had invested in a car which he learned to drive himself.
One always _suspected_ that here was a fortune for any young man who
was not too proud to take off his coat, and so it proved: the one car
became two, the two four and five--hence his expression "one in
action and four in support." Now, I was given to understand, he was
launching out more widely and negotiating for the purchase of _nine_
more. A few of his friends--young fellows like himself discharged
from the army--were coming into partnership with him; and in six
months he hoped to give up driving himself and to turn his business
into a limited company, partly taxis and partly those really
magnificent private cars that one sees at the opera and everywhere,
filled by people who one _knows_ could not afford to buy such things
at the present prices...
I complimented him _most warmly_ on his enterprise and determination.
"It was so obvious," he answered. "Stand outside any theatre or
restaurant on a wet night, and you'll agree with me. There are
thousands of people _living_ in London, _hundreds_ of thousands
coming to London for a few nights, who need a car and can't afford to
keep one. By the time you've ordered dinner at fifteen shillings a
head and champagne at two guineas a bottle and brandy at five
shillings a glass and cigars at four shillings a-piece and stalls at
twelve and six and anything else that occurs to you at any price that
occurs to any one else, you don't grudge an extra guinea for a car
that takes you from your house to the restaurant, from the restaurant
to the theatre and from the theatre home again. You'd spend the best
part of a guinea in fares and tips--without any certainty. For two
guineas I give you certainty and a private car. In two years no one
who can afford to dine at Claridge's or go to the stalls will _dream_
of going any other way. Whether it pays you can judge from the
progress I've made in less than a year."
Like all enthusiasts on their own hobby, he _deluged_ me with figures
until my poor head reeled. I did not complain, however, because I
felt that so long as he was doing sensible hard work he would be
unlikely to return and disturb our peace of mind. Apart from the one
formal question he had not mentioned Phyllida; and I was strengthened
in the belief which I had always held that it was a momentary
infatuation and that he proved he had overcome it when he declined to
communicate with her.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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