Governesses -- Fiction; Love stories; Young women -- Fiction
He had been three days at the hotel in Boston before learning that
Cousin Andrew Brew was actually in town and would see him at the bank at
eleven on a certain morning. Hugh was on the moment. The promptitude
with which his relative sprang up in his seat, somewhat as if impelled
by a piece of mechanism, was truly cordial. Not less was the handshake
and the formula of greeting. The sons of J. Howard Brokenshire were
always welcome guests among their Boston kin, on whom they shed a
pleasant luster of metropolitan glory. While the Brews and Borrodailes
prided themselves on what they called their Boston provinciality and
didn't believe to be provinciality at all, they enjoyed the New York
connection.
"Hello, Hugh! Glad to see you. Come in. Sit down. Looking older than
when I saw you last. Growing a mustache. Not married yet? Sit down and
tell us all about it. What can I do for you? Sit down."
Hugh took the comfortable little upright arm-chair that stood at the
corner of his cousin's desk, while the latter resumed the seat of honor.
Knowing that the banker's time was valuable, and feeling that he would
reveal his aptitude for business by going to the point at once, the
younger man began his tale. He had just reached the fact that he had
fallen in love with a little girl on whose merits he wouldn't enlarge,
since all lovers had the same sort of things to say, though he was surer
of his data than others of his kind, when there was a tinkle at the desk
telephone.
"Excuse me."
During the conversation in which Cousin Andrew then engaged Hugh was
able to observe the long-established, unassuming comfort of this
friendly office, which suggested the cozy air that hangs about the
smoking-rooms of good old English inns. There was a warm worn carpet on
the floor; deep leather arm-chairs showed the effect of contact with two
generations of moneyed backs; on the walls the lithographed heads of
Brews and Borrodailes bore witness to the firm's respectability. In the
atmosphere a faint odor of tobacco emphasized the human associations.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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