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Updated: May 20, 2025
Undisturbed and undistracted by greed, envy, ambition, or desire, I see things in their true proportion. A dreamy spectator of the world's turmoil, I do not enter into the hectic hurly-burly of life; I merely withhold my approval from cant, shams, prejudice, formulae, hypocrisy, and lies. Such is the priceless service of the philosopher." "Philosopher, my foot!" jeered Ferdie. "You're a brow!
As I couldn't very well go scoutin' around whistlin' for her to come out, I does the next best thing. After bein' shown my room I drifts downstairs and out on the lawn where I'd be some conspicuous. Course I wa'n't suggestin' anything, but if somebody should happen to see me and judge that I was lonesome, they might wander out that way too. Sure enough somebody did, Ferdie.
Three different times Brother Ferdie was called from his happy home at night to rush down with enough cash bail to rescue Ambrose from a cold-hearted desk sergeant, and once he figured quite prominent on the front page of the morning papers when he insisted on confidin' to the judge that him and the young lady in the taxi was really the king and queen of Staten Island come over to visit upper Broadway.
There was still Veronica. Even without Veronica Vera would have had to think of something far worse than Lawrence Stephen before Frances would have cast her off. Frances felt that it was not for her to sit in judgment under the shelter of her tree of Heaven. Supposing she could only have had Anthony as Vera had had Ferdie, could she have lived without him?
I nods, grinnin', and explains confidential to Vee. And half an hour or so afterwards, ten perfectly good volumes of Bernard Shaw splashed overboard. Next we sends Ferdie to take a peek down the companionway and report. "They're looking at a chart," says he. "Same side of the table," says I, "or opposite?" "Why, they're both on one side." "Huh!" says I, nudgin' Vee.
So one of us has to go shoo him away. "Why er what's the matter?" says he, blinkin' puzzled, after he's been led off. "You was makin' a noise like a seed catalogue, that's all," says I. "Chop it, can't you?" Ferdie only stares at me through his thick window-panes and puts on an injured air. Half an hour later, though, he's at it again. "You tell him, Torchy," sighs Marjorie.
Unless, of course, he has the money." "Yes, he's a Western man, all right. I met them on the Vesper Bridge," replied Boland absently, ignoring the banter. He got to his feet and spoke with dreamy animation. "Ferdie, that chap made me feel homesick with just one look at him. Best time I ever had was with that sort. Younger men I was running with, of course.
"He is not even a pure Turk some of them are gentlemen. He is just the scum of the earth, and no blood relation to John Ardayre." "He will let them know whether he is or not some day! I hear that your bit of bread and butter is going to have a child, and as Ferdie says it can't be John's, I suppose it is yours!" Verisschenzko's face looked dangerous.
And if I take a squint at the copper proposition, it will be mostly in Ferdie's interest Ferdie is the capitalist, comparatively speaking; but he can't tear himself away from little old N'Yawk. This is his first trip West here in Vesper. Myself, I've got only two coppers to clink together or maybe three. We're rather overlooking Ferdie, don't you think? Mustn't do that.
"Good guess," says I. "He ain't. Drifts in about once a month, though, as a rule, and as it's been three weeks or so since he was here last, maybe you'd like to " "How absurd!" snaps Blair. "But he was to meet me here to-day at this time." "Was, eh?" says I. "Well, if you know Ferdie, you can gamble that he'll be an hour or two behind, if he gets here at all." "Thanks," says Blair, real crisp.
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