This FreedomHutchinson, A. S. M. (Arthur Stuart-Menteth)
General
This Freedom
Hutchinson, A. S. M. (Arthur Stuart-Menteth)
Marriage -- Fiction; Women -- Social and moral questions -- Fiction
Huggo had been leaving and now very violently went. “That’s your tone,
is it? I might have known! That’s all you can say, is it? To see me ruin
my life and then reproach me! Ruin my life! It’s not I that’s ruined
my life. It’s you. There, now I’ve told you! I can see things now. What
sort of a chance have I ever had? What sort of a home have I ever had?
Have I ever had a mother? When I was a kid did I ever have a mother like
other kids have? I can see things now. A mother! I can’t ever remember a
time when I wasn’t in the charge of some servant or governess or other.
You said this afternoon before father that I didn’t love you. Did
you ever teach me to love you? By God, I can’t remember it. By God, I
can’t.”
Strike on!
Also that trick, touching a sum of money, upon his father. When he first
made known his marriage, and it was obvious he must have his way and be
set up to start in life, he had also, as he had said, the chance of a
lucrative business. It was the kind of thing he liked. It was the kind
of thing he was keen on. It was a motor-car business. There was a little
syndicate that was putting a new car on the market. They’d got works,
just outside London somewhere. They’d got show-rooms in the West End.
And they’d got an absolutely first-class article. That chap Telfer was
one of the directors; a first-class chap called Turner was another;
they’d let him in for eight thousand pounds and he’d be absolutely set
up for life and be pulling in an immense fortune in no time. You will,
won’t you, father?
Of course Harry forgave the boy, his eldest son. The marriage was done,
what was the use of being unkind or stupid about it? Of course Rosalie
welcomed the wife, Lucy, the prettiest creature, a tiny shade common,
perhaps, but a sweet little soul with always about her a pathetic air of
being afraid of something (of when it should come out precisely what she
was, as the event proved). Of course Harry paid over the eight thousand
pounds. Huggo took, “to start with,” as he said, a tiny furnished flat
in Bayswater. Rosalie installed him and his bride therein and left him,
on their first night there, ever so gay, so confident, so happy. Her
Huggo!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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