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Updated: June 23, 2025
Malcourt said it was not necessary, and cautioned everybody to sit absolutely clear of the table, and to rest only the tips of the fingers very lightly on the surface. "Can we speak?" grinned Portlaw. "Oh, yes, if you like." A bright colour glowed in Malcourt's face; he looked down dreamily at the top of the table where his hands touched. A sudden quiet fell over the company.
Harried and restless, Hamil looked for Shiela and saw Portlaw, very hot and uncomfortable in his best raiment, shooting his cuffs and looking dully about for some avenue of escape; and Hamil, exasperated with purple perfumes and thumbs, meanly snared him and left him to confront a rather ample and demonstrative young girl who believed that all human thought was precious even sinful thought of which she knew as much as a newly hatched caterpillar.
Some minutes later, on the northward speeding train, he left Portlaw playing solitaire in their own compartment, and, crossing the swaying corridor, entered the state-room opposite. Miss Wilming was there, reading a novel, an enormous bunch of roses, a box of bonbons, and a tiny kitten on the table before her.
Malcourt inquired politely concerning the Villa Cardross and its occupants; Hamil answered in generalities. "You've finished there, then!" "Practically. I may go down in the autumn to look it over once more." "Is Cardross going to put in the Schwarzwald pigs?" "Yes; they're ordered." "Portlaw wants some here.
The door opened and Malcourt entered slowly, almost noiselessly. There was not a vestige of colour in his face, nor of expression as he crossed the room for a match and relighted his cigarette. "Well?" inquired Portlaw, "did you get Cardross on the wire?" "Yes." Malcourt stood motionless, hands in his pockets, the cigarette smoke curling up blue in the sunshine. "I've got to go," he said.
"Bills, bills," he muttered, "appeals for some confounded foundlings' hospital all the eternal junk my flesh is heir to and a letter from a lawyer let them sue! and a a hey! what the devil what the " Portlaw was on his feet, startled eyes fairly protruding as he scanned incredulously the engraved card between his pudgy fingers. "O Lord!" he bellowed; "it's all up!
The rattle of the buckboard on the wet gravel drive brought Portlaw to his feet. A servant appeared with Malcourt's suit-case and overcoat. "There's a trunk to follow; Williams is to pack what I need.... Good-bye, Billy. I wouldn't go if I didn't have to." Portlaw took his offered hand as though dazed.
Does a man want to be prodded with wit at his own expense when the market is getting funnier every hour at his expense? Go and look at the tape if you want to know why I don't enjoy either your wit or this accursed luncheon." "What's happening, Portlaw?" "I wish you'd tell me." "Muck-raking?" "Partly, I suppose." "Administration?" "People say so. I don't believe it.
"Can I help what I look like!" bellowed Portlaw wrathfully. "What an idiot question!" said Malcourt with weary patience. "All you've got to do is to cuddle yourself less, and go out into the fresh air on your ridiculous legs " "Ridiculous!" gasped the other. "Well, I'm damned if I stand that !" "You won't be able to stand at all if you continue eating and sitting in arm-chairs.
"This is a beautiful place " She dropped her pen with a shudder, closed her eyes, groped for it again, and forced herself to continue "Mr. Portlaw is very kind. The superintendent's house is large and comfortable. Louis begins his duties to-morrow.
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