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Updated: June 17, 2025
"It seems to me that you'd better read this yourself," she said, naughtily. The letter was from Lady Massulam, signed only with her initials, announcing with a queer brevity that she had suddenly decided to go back at once to her native country to live. "How strange!" exclaimed Mr. Prohack, trying to be airy. "Listen! What do you make of it. You're a woman, aren't you?"
I cannot help him. He will not let me; but if I see him to-night when he returns to town I shall send him to you. He is very young, very difficult, but I shall insist that he goes to you." "How kind you are!" said Mr. Prohack, touched. Lady Massulam rose, shook hands, seemed to blush, and departed. An interview as brief as it had been strange! Mr.
If anybody handed her a subject, she just dropped it; the floor around her was strewn with subjects. The lunch was dreadful, socially. It might have been better if Charlie's family had not been tormented by the tremendous question: what had Charlie to do with Lady Massulam? Already Charlie's situation was sufficient of a mystery, without this arch-mystery being spread all over it.
Prohack, and her greeting of him made a considerable change in the managerial attitude towards the unassuming Terror of the departments. The manager respectfully informed Lady Massulam that Lord Partick was indisposed, and respectfully took himself off. Lady Massulam and Mr. Prohack then proceeded to treat each other like new toys. Mr.
"Oh!" exclaimed Miss Winstock, "the boy who drove off in Lady Massulam's car?" "Was that Lady Massulam?" asked Mr. Prohack before he had had time to recover from the immense effect of hearing the startling, almost legendary name of Lady Massulam in connection with his son. "Of course," said Miss Winstock. "Didn't you know?" Mr. Prohack ignored her pertness.
They exhibited a mutual trust; they understood each other; they liked each other. She was more than old enough to be his mamma, and yet as she talked to him she somehow became a dignified girl. Mr. Prohack was disturbed in a manner which he would never have admitted, how absurd to fancy that Lady Massulam had in her impressive head a notion of marrying the boy!
He is selling something he hasn't got before he knows what price he will have to pay for it." "Ah!" breathed Mr. Prohack. They were sitting together in the richly ornamented bungalow drawing-room, by the fire. Lady Massulam sat up straight Sn her sober and yet daring evening frock. Mr. Prohack lounged with formless grace in a vast easy-chair neighbouring a whiskey-and-soda.
There was even the Encyclopaedia of Religion and Ethics in eleven volumes. Queer possessions for a youth who at home had never read aught but the periodical literature of automobilism! Could this be the influence of Lady Massulam? Then the telephone bell rang, and it was like a signal of salvation. Charlie sprang at the instrument. "For you," he said, indicating Lady Massulam, who rose.
Visions of Lady Massulam flitted through his mind, but he decided that Eve, seriously pouring out tea for him under the lamp in the morning twilight of the pale bedroom, could not be matched by either Lady Massulam or anybody else. No, he could not conceive a Lady Massulam pouring out early tea; the Lady Massulams could only pour out afternoon tea a job easier to do with grace and satisfaction.
Prohack had to explain why he was at Frinton, and Lady Massulam explained that whenever she was in Frinton at the week-end she always came to the Majestic to play bridge with old Lord Partick.
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