Scotland -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
Still, he was wonderful. She did not take it as warning of any coldness
or unkindness in him that it was impossible to imagine him linked by a
human relationship to any ordinary person like herself; there are
pictures too fine for private ownership. Just then he was being
particularly fine in an exciting way. He sat up very straight, flung out
his great arm with a gesture of abandonment, and said that he would have
no more to do with this house. So might a conqueror speak of a city he
was weary of looting. He wanted to sell it outright, and desired Mr.
Philip to undertake the whole business of concluding the sale with the
Rio agents. "It's all here," he said, and took from his pocket-book a
packet of letters. "They hold the title-deeds and you'll see how things
are getting on with the deal. But I suppose the language will be a
difficulty. I can read you these, of course, but how will you carry on
the correspondence?"
"Och, we can send out to a translator--"
A tingling ran through Ellen's veins. The men's words, uttered on one
side in irritated languor and on the other with empty spruceness, had
suddenly lifted her to the threshold of life. She had previsioned many
moments in which she should disclose her unique value to a dazzled
world, but most of them had seemed, even to herself, extremely unlikely
to arrive. It was improbable that Mr. Asquith should fall into a river
just as she was passing, and that he should be so helpless and the
countryside so depopulated that she would be able to exact votes for
women as the price of his rescue; besides, she could not swim. It was
improbable, too, that she should be in a South American republic just
when a revolution was proclaimed, and that, the Latin attitude to women
being what it is, she should be given a high military command. But there
had been one triumph which she knew to be not impossible even in her
obscurity. It might conceivably happen that by some exhibition of the
prodigious bloom of her efficiency she would repay her debt to the firm
and make the first steps towards becoming the pioneer business queen.
For it was one of her dreams, perhaps the six hundred and seventy-ninth
in the series, that one day she would sit at a desk answering
innumerable telephone calls with projecting jaw, as millionaires do on
the movies, and crushing rivals like blackbeetles in order that, after
being reviled by the foolish as a heartless plutocrat, she might hand a
gigantic Trust over to the Socialist State.
"Mr. Philip," she said.
Apparently he did not hear her, though the other man turned his dark
glance on her.
"Mr. Philip," she said. He looked across at her with a blankness she
took as part of the business. "I've been taking Commercial Spanish at
Skerry's. I took a first-class certificate. Maybe I could manage the
letters?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account