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Updated: May 14, 2025
He tried to be nonchalant "When are you going?" "I did think of getting to Crewe before noon, sir. As soon as I've seen to this " He cocked his eye at the copy for the poster. "Oh, you needn't bother about that," said Edwin carelessly. "Go now if you want to." "I've got time, sir. Mr Curtenty's coming for me at nine o'clock to drive me to th' polling-booth."
In that one unassisted noun, scorning the aid of verb, adjective, or adverb, the gooseherd, by a masterpiece of profound and subtle emphasis, contrived to express the fact that he existed in a world of dead illusions, that he had become a convert to Schopenhauer, and that Mr. Curtenty's inapposite geniality was a final grievance to him. 'There ain't no business! he added. 'Ah! returned Mr.
And yet the feeling of an anticlimax would not be dismissed. Upon the whole, his transit lacked glory. It had begun in splendour, but it had ended in discomfort and almost ignominy. Nevertheless, Mr. Curtenty's unconquerable soul asserted itself in a quite genuine and tuneful whistle as he entered the house. The fate of the Brent gander was never ascertained.
Curtenty's. They took him seriously as a gooseherd.
But Denry, though so young, had made immense progress as a card, and had, perhaps justifiably, come to consider himself as the premier card, the very ace, of the town. He felt that some reply was needed to Curtenty's geese, and the mule was his reply. It served excellently. People were soon asking each other whether they had heard that Denry Machin's "latest" was to buy a mule.
One of the wires, slipping from its temporary gripper, swirled with an extraordinary sound into the roadway, and writhed there in spirals. Several of Mr. Curtenty's geese were knocked down, and rose obviously annoyed; but the Barnacle gander fell with a clinging circle of wire round his muscular, glossy neck, and did not rise again.
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