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Updated: June 5, 2025
"You're one of the best and noblest men who ever lived or I couldn't say this to you. But you understand, don't you?" Jaffery's ruddy face turned as white as chalk. She might have slapped it physically and it would have worn the same dazed, paralysed lack of expression. "My life," said he, in a queer toned voice, that wasn't Jaffery's at all, "my life is only an expression of your wishes.
"I've not been to Madagascar," said Jaffery again. Captain Maturin smiled gravely. "Why not come along with me. Mr. Chayne?" Jaffery's eyes danced and his smile broadened so that his white teeth showed beneath his moustache. "Why not?" he cried. And bringing down his hand with a clamp on Liosha's shoulder "Why not? You and I. Out of this rotten civilisation?"
"Now where has it gone to?" Susan, who had shrunk beneath Jaffery's protecting shadow, crept forward fascinated. Mr. Fendihook took a sudden step or two towards a flower bed. "Why, there it is!" He stretched out a hand and there before our eyes the handkerchief hung limp over the pruned top of a standard rose. "Jolly good!" exclaimed Jaffery. "I hope you don't mind. I like amusing kiddies.
If it had occurred to me at the time that I was destined to play Boswell to Jaffery's Johnson, perhaps I might have gone straight to him and demanded a solution of my difficulties. As it was, in my unawakened condition, I did nothing of the kind. A fortnight or so passed before I saw Jaffery again.
She had said: "There never was an Adrian." From her point of view, she was mercilessly right. "It's horrible to think," she went on after a pause, "that all this time I've been living, first on stolen property and now on charity Jaffery's charity and he hasn't even had a word of thanks. Quite the contrary." Again she laughed the shrill, dead laugh.
To dream away a summer's afternoon had no place, however, in Jaffery's category of delights. He must be up and doing. I have threatened on many restless occasions to rig up at Northlands a gigantic wheel for his benefit similar to that in which Susan's white mice take futile exercise.
His strong bass boomed through the receiver. I have always found a queer comfort in Jaffery's voice. It wraps you round about in thundering waves. We exchanged the commonplaces of delighted greeting. I asked: "When did you arrive?" "A couple of days ago." "Why on earth didn't you let me know at once?" I heard him laugh. "I'll tell you when I see you.
Quentin's Mansions, and after consultation with the porter, who, knowing me to be a friend of Mr. Chayne's, assured me that I need not have burdened myself with the horrible key, I entered Jaffery's chambers. I found the small sitting-room in very much the same state of litter as when Jaffery left it. He enjoyed litter and hated the devastating tidiness of housemaids.
By way of reply I patted her poor little wrist sympathetically. "When will the book be out?" she asked. "I'm afraid I don't quite know," said I. "I suppose they're busy printing it." "Jaffery's in charge," I replied, according to instructions. "He must get it out at once. The early spring's the best time. It won't do to wait too long. Will you tell him?" "I will," said I.
The more I talked and the longer she regarded me in her grave, direct fashion, the less I knew how to tell her, or how much to tell her, of Doria's story. The drive had been a short one, giving time only for a narration of the facts of the discovery. Liosha, although accepting my apology, had sat mystified; also profoundly disturbed by Jaffery's unconcealed agitation.
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