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When, confidential, Insott told him the salary of a branch-manager of a vast corporation near Hanover Square, and incidentally mentioned that a bank-clerk might not marry without the consent in writing of the vast corporation, Mr. Prohack understood and pardoned the deep, deplorable groove.
Satisfactory arrangements have been made...." "Really? Well, that's splendid. But of course it won't make any difference to me. There may be no necessity so far as you're concerned. But there's my inward necessity. I've got to be independent. It wouldn't make any difference if you had an income of ten thousand a year." Mr. Prohack blenched guiltily. "Er er what was I going to say?
The piece was stopped dead for three minutes while the audience and Eliza protested a mutual and unique passion. From this point onwards Mr. Prohack lost his head. He ran to and fro in the bewildering glittering maze of the piece, seeking for an explanation, for a sign-post, for a clue, for the slightest hint, and found nothing.
And then, at the door: "If she hasn't got anything to do she can always see to the flowers for me. Perhaps when I come back you'll introduce us." As soon as he had heard the bang of the front-door Mr. Prohack rang his bell. "Machin, I understand that my secretary is waiting in the dining-room." "Yes, sir." "Ask her to take her things off and then bring her up here." "Up here, sir?"
Prohack and one that he liked! She was wearing the Chinese garment of the morning, but he perceived that she had done something to it. He made a sharp noise with the handle of the door.
Machin came leaping and bounding down the stairs as if by magic. She had heard his voice, and her joy at his entry into his abode caused her to forget her parlour-maidenhood and to exhibit a humanity which pained Mr. Brool, who had been brought up in the strictest traditions of flunkeyism. Her joy pleased Mr. Prohack and he felt better. "Good morning, Machin," said he, quite blithely.
Prohack, extremely startled by the turn of events. "Well, you've got to be sudden in this world, guv'nor," Charlie replied, and lit a fresh cigarette. Mr. Prohack was again too proud to put questions. Still, he did venture upon one question: "Have you got loose money for your fare?" The lad laughed. "Oh, don't let that worry you, guv'nor...!" He looked at his watch once more.
"I'd better get out of this anyhow," thought Mr. Prohack, surveying the ladies' cloakroom. "If one of 'em came in I should have to explain my unexplainable presence in this sacred grot." Having received no suggestion from his daughter as to how he should dispose of himself while awaiting her leisure, Mr. Prohack made his way back to the guardian's cubicle.
Well, it won't do at all. Never mention it again, please." When he had accompanied Mimi to a neighbouring post office and sent off a suitable telegram of farewell to Mr. Carrel Quire in her name, Mr. Prohack abandoned her till the morrow, and drove off quickly to pick up his wife for the Grand Babylon lunch. "I am a perfect lunatic," said he to himself. "It must be the effect of riches.
I don't blame you for not knowing it, because you're about the last person I should have thought susceptible to any mental disease, and so you've had no chance of finding out. Now, what is it?" "Don't I tell you I'm suffering from horrible complications?" cried Mr. Prohack. "What kind of complications?" "Every kind.
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