United States or Côte d'Ivoire ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"What do you mean?" asked Priam Farll. But he put the question weakly, and he might just as well have said, "I know what you mean, and I would pay a million pounds or so in order to sink through the floor." A few minutes ago he would only have paid five hundred pounds or so in order to run simply away. Now he wanted Maskelyne miracles to happen to him.
All men are capable of stooping beneath their highest selves, and in several directions Priam Farll could have stooped. But not on canvas! He could only produce his best. He could only render nature as he saw nature. And it was instinct, rather than conscience, that prevented him from stooping.
It engendered the horrible suspicion, "Suppose he's seriously ill?" Priam Farll sprang up nervously, braced to meet ringers and knockers. Cure for Shyness
And then he explained by what accident of a dating-stamp on a canvas it had been discovered that the pictures guaranteed to be by Priam Farll were painted after Priam Farll's death. He proceeded with no variation of tone: "The explanation is simplicity itself. Priam Farll was not really dead. It was his valet who died.
At which stage the vast newspaper public suddenly woke up and demanded with one voice: "Who is this Priam Farll?" Though the query remained unanswered, Priam Farll's reputation was henceforward absolutely assured, and this in spite of the fact that he omitted to comply with the regulations ordained by English society for the conduct of successful painters.
And her morose face, under stringent commands from her brain, began an imitation of a smile which, as an imitation, was wonderful. It made you wonder how she had ever taught her face to do it. Priam Farll found himself blushing on a Turkey carpet, and a sort of cathedral gloom around him. He was disconcerted, but the Turkey carpet assured him somewhat.
Paul's and getting fifty pounds a year, and Henry'll have a curacy next month at Bermondsey it's been promised, and all thanks to Johnnie!" She wept. Johnnie, in the corner, who had so far done nought but knock at the door, maintained stiffly his policy of non-interference. Priam Farll, angry, resentful, and quite untouched by the recital, shrugged his shoulders.
But, ere that moment, an astonishing and vivid experience happened to them. One might have supposed that, in the life of Priam Farll at least, enough of the astonishing and the vivid had already happened. Nevertheless, what had already happened was as customary and unexciting as addressing envelopes, compared to the next event.
"Where's your ticket of admission?" demanded the cassock. Priam fumbled for it, and could not find it. "I must have lost it," he said weakly. "What's your name, anyhow?" "Priam Farll," said Priam Farll, without thinking. "Off his nut, evidently!" murmured one of the young men contemptuously. "Come on, Stan. Don't let's miss that anthem, for this cuss." And off they both went.
"Then at first you didn't believe your husband was the real Priam Farll?" "No. You see, he didn't exactly tell me like. He only sort of hinted." "But you didn't believe?" "No." "You thought he was lying?" "No, I thought it was just a kind of an idea he had. You know my husband isn't like other gentlemen." "I imagine not," said Vodrey.
Word Of The Day