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Updated: May 8, 2025
It was the only disconsolate hour of his day, this summer weather. He had never been a large eater, like that great chap Swithin, or Sylvanus Heythorp, or Anthony Thornworthy, those cronies of past times; and to dine alone, overlooked by the Madonnas, was to him but a sorrowful occupation, which he got through quickly, that he might come to the more spiritual enjoyment of his coffee and cigar.
And I daren't say anything to Bob. What are you thinking of, Sylvanus? You look very funny!" Old Heythorp seemed to rouse himself from a sort of coma. "I want my lunch," he said. "Will you stop and have some?" Joe Pillin stammered out: "Lunch! I don't know when I shall eat again. What are you going to do, Sylvanus?" "Bluff the beggar out of it." "But suppose you can't?" "Buy him off.
Good Lord! how he jumped if you asked him a plain question. The chap was as nervous as a guinea-fowl! "Here are the figures for the last four years. I think you'll agree that I couldn't ask less than seventy thousand." Through the smoke of his cigar old Heythorp had digested those figures slowly, Joe Pillin feeling his teeth and sucking lozenges the while; then he said: "Sixty thousand!
Old Heythorp nodded. "Wonderful how your voice came back just at the right moment. I was afraid things were going to be difficult. The insult did it, I think. It was a monstrous thing to say. I could have punched his head." Again old Heythorp nodded; and, looking into the secretary's fine blue eyes, he repeated: "Bring 'em in."
She lifted his hand, kissed it, pressed it to her splendid bust, and said: "So here I am at last, you see. Aren't you surprised?" Old Heythorp, shook his head. "I really had to come and see you, Guardy; we haven't had a sight of you for such an age. And in this awful weather! How are you, dear old Guardy?" "Never better." And, watching her green-grey eyes, he added: "Haven't a penny for you!"
It was the only disconsolate hour of his day, this summer weather. He had never been a large eater, like that great chap Swithin, or Sylvanus Heythorp, or Anthony Thornworthy, those cronies of past times; and to dine alone, overlooked by the Madonnas, was to him but a sorrowful occupation, which he got through quickly, that he might come to the more spiritual enjoyment of his coffee and cigar.
So-so it's gone through?" Old Heythorp nodded; and Joe Pillin, wandering like a spirit, scrutinised the shut door. He came back to the table, and said in a low voice: "It's a great sacrifice." Old Heythorp smiled. "Have you signed the deed poll?" Producing a parchment from his pocket Joe Pillin unfolded it with caution to disclose his signature, and said: "I don't like it it's irrevocable."
Then his smile died, and with a little chill he perceived that it was all based on supposition not quite good enough to go on! What then? Somehow he must see this Mrs. Larne, or better old Pillin himself. The point to ascertain was whether she had any connection of her own with Pillin. Clearly young Pillin didn't know of it; for, according to him, old Heythorp had made the settlement. By Jove!
From the depths of old Heythorp a preliminary rumble came travelling, reached the surface, and materialised "Don't know about you feel a boy, myself." The eight gentlemen looked at him. Was he going to try and put them off again? Mr. Brownbee said with unruffled calm: "I'm sure we're very glad to hear it. But to come to the point. We have felt, Mr.
Bob Pillin gave vent to one of those fat cackles which come so readily from a certain type of man; and old Heythorp thought: 'Laughing at his father! Parrot! They had reached the porch. A woman with dark hair and a thin, straight face and figure was arranging some flowers in the hall. She turned and said: "You really ought not to be so late, Father! It's wicked at this time of year. Who is it oh!
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