The Husband's Story: A NovelPhillips, David Graham
General
The Husband's Story: A Novel
Phillips, David Graham
Husband and wife -- Fiction; New York (N.Y.) -- Social life and customs -- 20th century -- Fiction
Toward noon the next day Rossiter and I and my valet were set down at
the little station of Kesson Wells, half an hour out from London in
Surrey. We were in the midst of about as beautiful a country us I have
seen. I am a narrow enough patriot not to take the most favorable
view of things foreign. But I must admit that no other countryside can
give one the sense of sheer loveliness that one gets in certain parts
of England. I am glad we have nothing like it at home; for to have it
means rainy weather most of the time, and serf labor, and landlord
selfishly indifferent to the misery of the poor human creatures he
works and robs. Still, I try to forget the way it came in the joy of
the thing itself--as you, gentle reader, forget the suffering and death
of the animals that make the artistic and delicious course dinners you
eat.
We were received with much ceremony at the station. My money was
being exercised by those who knew how to do it. After a drive between
perfumed and blossoming hedgerows and over a road as smooth and clean
as a floor we came to Garton Hall, the place my son-in-law had leased
until his new house should be ready. It was a modern house, as I
noted with relief when we were still afar off, and while not large,
was a most satisfactory embodiment of that often misused and often
misunderstood word comfort. To live in the luxurious yet comfortable
comfort obtainable in England only--indoors, in its steam-heated or
Americanized portions--one must have English servants. I am glad we do
not breed English servants in America; I am glad that when they are
imported they soon cease to be the models of menial perfection they
are at home. But when I am in England I revel in the English servant.
To find him at his best you must see him serving in the establishment
of a great noble. And my son-in-law was that; and the establishment
over which Margot presided, but with which she was not permitted to
interfere in the smallest detail because of her utter ignorance of all
the “vulgarities” of life, as became a true lady of our quaint American
brand--the establishment was a combination of the best of the city with
the best of the country, a skillful mingling of the most attractive
features of home, club, and hotel.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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