United States or Bolivia ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Don't know if you call that being bankrupt." "What! On this Mrs. Larne?" Confused, uncertain whether he had said something derogatory or indiscreet, or something which added distinction to Phyllis, Bob Pillin hesitated, then gave a nod. Mr. Ventnor rose and extended his short legs before the fire. "No, my boy," he said. "No!" Unaccustomed to flat contradiction, Bob Pillin reddened.
"I hope," she said, "those naughty children have been making you comfortable. That nice lawyer of yours came yesterday. He seemed quite satisfied." Very red above his collar, Bob Pillin stammered: "I never told him to; he isn't my lawyer. I don't know what it means." Mrs. Larne smiled. "My dear boy, it's all right. You needn't be so squeamish. I want it to be quite on a business footing."
Old Heythorp held out to him the crumpled letter. When he had read it Joe Pillin sat down abruptly before the fire. "Pull yourself together, Joe; they can't touch you, and they can't upset either the purchase or the settlement. They can upset me, that's all." Joe Pillin answered, with trembling lips: "How you can sit there, and look the same as ever! Are you sure they can't touch me?"
"Mother, and myself, and Jock he's an awful boy. You can't conceive what an awful boy he is. He's got nearly red hair; I think he'll be just like Guardy when he gets old. He's awful!" Bob Pillin murmured: "I should like to see him." "Would you? I'll ask mother if you can. You won't want to again; he goes off all the time like a squib."
Encircled from behind by the arms of Phyllis, and preceded by the gracious perfumed bulk of Mrs. Larne, old Heythorp was escorted to the sofa. It was low, and when he had plumped down into it, the boy Jock emitted a hollow groan. Bob Pillin was the first to break the silence. "How are you, sir? I hope it's gone through." Old Heythorp nodded. His eyes were fixed on the liqueur, and Mrs.
Ventnor murmured: "Charming! Charming! Bob Pillin said, I think, that Mr. Heythorp was your settlor." One of those little clouds which visit the brows of women who have owed money in their time passed swiftly athwart Mrs. Larne's eyes. For a moment they seemed saying: 'Don't you want to know too much? Then they slid from under it. "Won't you sit down?" she said.
A thicker attendance than he had ever seen! Due, no doubt, to the lower dividend, and this Pillin business. And his tongue curled. For if he had a natural contempt for his Board, with the exception of the chairman, he had a still more natural contempt for his shareholders. Amusing spectacle when you came to think of it, a general meeting! Unique!
But getting into his train to return to Mrs. Ventnor, he thought: 'A woman like that would have been ! And he sighed. With a neatly written cheque for fifty pounds in his pocket Bob Pillin turned in at 23, Millicent Villas on the afternoon after Mr. Ventnor's visit. Chivalry had won the day. And he rang the bell with an elation which astonished him, for he knew he was doing a soft thing. "Mrs.
Joe Pillin had his handkerchief to his mouth; he coughed feebly, then with more and more vigour: "I'm in very poor health," he said, at last. "I'm getting abroad at once. This cold's killing me. What name did you say?" And he remained with his handkerchief against his teeth. Mr. Ventnor repeated: "Larne. Writes stories." Joe Pillin muttered into his handkerchief "Ali! H'm! No I no!
Larne is very kind to me." "No doubt. But don't try to pick the flowers." Thoroughly upset, Bob Pillin preserved a dogged silence. This fortnight, since he had first met Phyllis in old Heythorp's hall, had been the most singular of his existence up to now.
Word Of The Day