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Updated: June 5, 2025
So gay a wedding reception I have never attended, and I am sure it was nothing but Jaffery's pervasive influence that infused vitality into the deadly and decorous mob. It was a miracle wrought by a rich Silenic personality. I had never guessed before the magnetic power of Jaffery Chayne.
You see, I knew all along, as all along I hope I have given you to understand ever since the day when she asked him to beat her with a golf-stick that the poor girl loved Jaffery, heart and soul. I knew also that she made for herself no illusions as to Jaffery's devotion to Doria. On that point her words to me at Havre had left me in no doubt whatever.
By the way, can Barbara have me for the week-end?" This was like Jaffery. Most men would have asked me, taking Barbara for granted. "Barbara would have you for the rest of time," said I. "And so would Susan. I'll expect you by the 11 o'clock train." "Right," said he. "And, I say!" "Yes?" "Talking of fair ladies what about ?" "Oh, Hell!" came Jaffery's great voice. "She's here right enough."
She returned to the window and looked out at the rain. And there she fought with her woman's indignant humiliation. And there was a long, dead silence, broken only by the faintly heard notes of Susan's piano in the nursery and the splash of water on the terrace. Presently all that was good in Doria conquered. She crossed the room and laid a light hand on Jaffery's head.
Unreservedly she had laid herself as a "damn fool" at our feet or rather at Jaffery's feet, for I did not count for much. Instead of blundering over her and tugging her up and otherwise exacerbating her wounds, he lifted her with tactful kindness to her self-respect. For the first time, save when Susan was the connecting-link, he entered into a spiritual relation with Liosha.
We went back to Southampton and collected our luggage at the South-Western Hotel the hotel porter in charge thereof. Our uncertainty as to whether we would cross or not horribly disturbed his dull brain. Ten shillings and Jaffery's peremptory order to stick to his side and obey him slavishly took the place of intellectual workings. It was nearly midnight.
Jaffery's elementary sense of humour was tickled and he broke out into a loud guffaw that sent the house cat, a delicate mendicant for food, scuttling across the lawn. The sight of the terror-stricken animal aroused the rest of the party to harmless mirth. "Tell me, Mrs. Prescott," said Adrian, "was he allowed to do that in Albania?"
I threw my litter into the grate. "Why?" "I'm not going to pander to the curiosity of housemaids," he replied rather irritably. "What do you do with your waste paper, then?" "Never have any," he said, with his eyes on Jaffery's letter. "Good Lord!" I cried. "Do you pigeon-hole bills and money-lenders' circulars and second-hand booksellers' catalogues and all their wrappers?"
So, the next morning Jaffery left us with a "See you as soon as ever I get back," and the day after that he sailed for China. We felt sad; not only because Jaffery's vitality counted for something in the quiet backwater of our life, but also because we knew that he went away a less happy man than he had come. This time it was not sheer Wanderlust that had driven him into the wilderness.
But I have a right to speak, Jaff Chayne. Haven't I?" Jaffery's mind went back to the Bedlam of the slithering cargo. He turned to Doria. "Let her say what she wants." "I want nothing!" cried Liosha. "Nothing for myself. Not a thing! But I want Jaff Chayne to be happy. You think you know all he has done for you, but you don't. You don't know a bit.
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