California -- Fiction; Science fiction; Sicily (Italy) -- Fiction
However, he was never met engaged in this lucrative way of
business,--he simply turned his back on everybody, Morgana Royal
included, and so far as "society" was concerned, just disappeared. In
the "hut of the dying" on that lonely hill-slope in California he was
happy, feeling a relief from infinite boredom, and thankful to be
alone. He had much to think about and much to do--inhabited places and
the movement of people were to him tedious and fatiguing, and he
decided that nature,--wild nature in a solitary and savage
aspect,--would suit his speculative and creative tendencies best. Yet,
like all human beings, he had his odd, almost child-like moods,
inexplicable even to himself--moods illogical, almost pettish, and
wholly incongruous with his own accepted principles of reasoning. For
instance, he maintained that women had neither attraction nor interest
for him--yet he found himself singularly displeased when after two or
three days of utter solitude, and when he was rather eagerly expecting
Manella to arrive with the new milk which was his staple food, a lanky,
red-haired ugly boy appeared instead of her--a boy who slouched along,
swinging the milk pail in one hand and clutching a half-munched slice
of pine-apple in the other.
"Hello--o!" called this individual. "Not dead yet?"
For answer Seaton strode forward and taking the milk-pail from him
gripped him by the dirty cotton shirt and gave him a brief but severe
shaking.
"No,--not dead yet!" he said--"You insolent young monkey! Who are you?"
The boy wriggled in his captor's clutch, and tried to squirm himself
out of it.
"I'm--I'm Jake--they calls me Irish Jake"--he gasped--"O Blessed
Mary!--my breath! I clean the knives at the Plaza--"
"I'll clean knives for you presently!" remarked Seaton, with a
threatening gesture--"Yes, Irish Jake, I will! Who sent you here?"
"SHE did--oh, Mary mother!" and the youth gave a further wriggle--"Miss
Soriso--the girl they call Manella. She told me to say she's too busy
to come herself."
Seaton let go the handful of shirt he had held.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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