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Updated: May 15, 2025
Denry perceived from her accent that she was not English. She disappeared through a swinging door; and then Denry most clearly heard the Countess's own authentic voice saying in a pettish, disgusted tone: "Oh! Bother!" And he was chilled. He seriously wished that he had never thought of starting his confounded Universal Thrift Club.
But even then he was manifestly unequal to the situation created by the demand for the Chocolate Remedy. It was a situation that needed the close attention of half a dozen men of business. It was quite different from the affair of the lifeboat. One night a man who had been staying a day or two in the boarding-house in St Asaph's Road said to Denry: "Look here, mister. I go straight to the point.
When Cotterill caught sight of Denry he straightened himself into a certain uneasy perkiness. "Young man," he said in a counterfeit of his old patronising tone, "come in here. You may as well hear about it. You're a friend of ours. Come in and shut the door." Nellie was not in view. Denry went in and shut the door. "Sit down," said Cotterill.
"I don't expect anyone can teach you much about the value o' property in this town. You know as well as I do. If you happened to have a couple of thousand loose by gosh! it's a chance in a million." "Yes," said Denry. "I should say that was just about what it was." "I put it before you," Cotterill proceeded, gathering way, and missing the flavour of Denry's remark.
He called Denry "Sir," or rather he called Denry's suit of clothes "Sir," for he had a vast respect for a well-cut suit. On the other hand, he maltreated the little office-boy, for he had always been accustomed to maltreating little office-boys, not seriously, but just enough to give them an interest in life. Penkethman enjoyed desks, ledgers, pens, ink, rulers, and blotting-paper.
When Denry at a single stroke "wherreted" his mother and proved his adventurous spirit by becoming the possessor of one of the first motor-cars ever owned in Bursley, his instinct naturally was to run up to Councillor Cotterill's in it. Not that he loved Councillor Cotterill, and therefore wished to make him a partaker in his joy; for he did not love Councillor Cotterill.
When the kettle, having finished its scales, burst into song with an accompaniment of castanets and vapour, and Ruth's sleeves rose and fell as she made the tea, Denry acknowledged frankly to himself that it was this sort of thing, and not the Brougham Street sort of thing, that he was really born for.
Now that he looked at it close, the enterprise of suggesting to Harold Etches that he, Denry, would be a suitable member of the Sports Club at Hillport, seemed in the highest degree preposterous. Why! He could not play any games at all! He was a figure only in the streets! Nevertheless the oath! He sat awkwardly silent for a few moments, wondering how to begin.
Nellie laughed, in silver. The naïve child thought that Ruth was trying to joke at Denry's expense. Her very manifest joy and pride in being seen with the unique Mr Machin, in being the next after the Countess to dance with him, made another mirror in which Denry could discern the reflection of his vast importance. Ruth hinted that the Countess was keeping a second dance open for him, Denry.
Now she was alone in it. She never left it, except to fetch water from the pump in the square. She had seen a lot of life, and she was tired. Denry came unceremoniously in, smiling gaily and benevolently, with his bright, optimistic face under his fair brown hair. He had large and good teeth. He was getting not stout, but plump.
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