It was, I think, the day after that. We were in Athens. Suddenly, on thesteps of the Acropolis Ellie ran into people that she knew. They had comeashore from one of the Hellenic cruises. A woman of about thirty-five de-tached herself from the group and rushed along the steps to Ellie exclaim-ing:
“Why, I never did. It’s really you, Ellie Guteman? Well, what are you do-ing here? I’d no idea. Are you on a cruise?”
“No,” said Ellie, “just staying here.”
“My, but it’s lovely to see you. How’s Cora, is she here?”
“No, Cora is at Salzburg I believe.”
“Well, well.” The woman was looking at me and Ellie said quietly, “Letme introduce—Mr. Rogers, Mrs. Bennington.”
“How d’you do. How long are you here for?”
“I’m leaving tomorrow,” said Ellie.
“Oh dear! My, I’ll lose my party if I don’t go, and I just don’t want to missa word of the lecture and the descriptions. They do hustle1 one a bit, youknow. I’m just dead beat at the end of the day. Any chance of meeting youfor a drink?”
“Not today,” said Ellie, “we’re going on an excursion.”
Mrs. Bennington rushed off to rejoin her party. Ellie, who had been go-ing with me up the steps of the Acropolis, turned round and moved downagain.
“That rather settles things, doesn’t it?” she said to me.
“What does it settle?”
Ellie did not answer for a minute or two and then she said with a sigh, “Imust write tonight.”
“Write to whom?”
“Oh, to Cora, and to Uncle Frank, I suppose, and Uncle Andrew.”
“Who’s Uncle Andrew? He’s a new one.”
“Andrew Lippincott. Not really an uncle. He’s my principal guardian2 ortrustee or whatever you call it. He’s a lawyer—a very well-known one.”
“What are you going to say?”
“I’m going to tell them I’m married. I couldn’t say suddenly to Nora Ben-nington ‘Let me introduce my husband.’ There would have been frightfulshrieks and exclamations4 and ‘I never heard you were married. Tell me allabout it, darling’ etcetera, etcetera. It’s only fair that my stepmother andUncle Frank and Uncle Andrew should be the first to know.” She sighed.
“Oh well, we’ve had a lovely time up to now.”
“What will they say or do?” I asked.
“Make a fuss, I expect,” said Ellie, in her placid5 way. “It doesn’t matter ifthey do and they’ll have sense enough to know that. We’ll have to have ameeting, I expect. We could go to New York. Would you like that?” Shelooked at me inquiringly.
“No,” I said, “I shouldn’t like it in the least.”
“Then they’ll come to London probably, or some of them will. I don’tknow if you’d like that any better.”
“I shouldn’t like any of it. I want to be with you and see our house goingup brick by brick as soon as Santonix gets there.”
“So we can,” said Ellie. “After all, meetings with the family won’t takelong. Possibly just one big splendid row would do. Get it over in one.
Either we fly over there or they fly over here.”
“I thought you said your stepmother was at Salzburg.”
“Oh, I just said that. It sounded odd to say I didn’t know where she was.
Yes,” said Ellie with a sigh, “we’ll go home and meet them all. Mike, I hopeyou won’t mind too much.”
“Mind what—your family?”
“Yes. You won’t mind if they’re nasty to you.”
“I suppose it’s the price I have to pay for marrying you,” I said. “I’ll bearit.”
“There’s your mother,” said Ellie thoughtfully.
“For heaven’s sake, Ellie, you’re not going to try and arrange a meetingbetween your stepmother in her frills and her furbelows and my motherfrom her back street. What do you think they’d have to say to each other?”
“If Cora was my own mother they might have quite a lot to say to eachother,” said Ellie. “I wish you wouldn’t be so obsessed7 with class distinc-tions, Mike!”
“Me!” I said incredulously. “What’s your American phrase—I come fromthe wrong side of the tracks, don’t I?”
“You don’t want to write it on a placard and put it on yourself.”
“I don’t know the right clothes to wear,” I said bitterly. “I don’t know theright way to talk about things and I don’t know anything really about pic-tures or art or music. I’m only just learning who to tip and how much togive.”
“Don’t you think, Mike, that that makes it all much more exciting foryou? I think so.”
“Anyway,” I said, “you’re not to drag my mother into your family party.”
“I wasn’t proposing to drag anyone into anything, but I think, Mike, Iought to go and see your mother when we go back to England.”
“No,” I said explosively.
She looked at me rather startled.
“Why not, Mike, though? I mean, apart from anything else, I mean it’sjust very rude not to. Have you told her you’re married?”
“Not yet.”
“Why not?”
I didn’t answer.
“Wouldn’t the simplest way be to tell her you’re married and take me tosee her when we get back to England?”
“No,” I said again. It was not so explosive this time but it was still fairlywell underlined.
“You don’t want me to meet her,” said Ellie, slowly.
I didn’t of course. I suppose it was obvious enough but the last thing Icould do was to explain. I didn’t see how I could explain.
“It wouldn’t be the right thing to do,” I said slowly. “You must see that.
I’m sure it would lead to trouble.”
“You think she wouldn’t like me?”
“Nobody could help liking8 you, but it wouldn’t be—oh I don’t know howto put it. But she might be upset and confused. After all, well, I mean I’vemarried out of my station. That’s the old-fashioned term. She wouldn’t likethat.”
Ellie shook her head slowly.
“Does anybody really think like that nowadays?”
“Of course they do. They do in your country too.”
“Yes,” she said, “in a way that’s true but—if anyone makes good there—”
“You mean if a man makes a lot of money.”
“Well, not only money.”
“Yes,” I said, “it’s money. If a man makes a lot of money he’s admiredand looked up to and it doesn’t matter where he was born.”
“Well, that’s the same everywhere,” said Ellie.
“Please, Ellie,” I said. “Please don’t go and see my mother.”
“I still think it’s unkind.”
“No it isn’t. Can’t you let me know what’s best for my own mother?
She’d be upset. I tell you she would.”
“But you must tell her you’ve got married.”
“All right,” I said. “I’ll do that.”
It occurred to me it would be easier to write to my mother from abroad.
That evening when Ellie was writing to Uncle Andrew and Uncle Frankand her stepmother Cora van Stuyvesant, I, too, was writing my own let-ter. It was quite short.
“Dear Mum,” I wrote. “I ought to have told you before but I felt a bitawkward. I got married three weeks ago. It was all rather sudden. She’s avery pretty girl and very sweet. She’s got a lot of money which makesthings a bit awkward sometimes. We’re going to build ourselves a housesomewhere in the country. Just at present we’re travelling around Europe.
All the best, Yours, Mike.”
The results of our evening’s correspondence were somewhat varied9. Mymother let a week elapse before she sent a letter remarkably10 typical ofher.
“Dear Mike. I was glad to get your letter. I hope you’ll bevery happy. Your affectionate mother.”
As Ellie had prophesied11, there was far more fuss on her side. We’dstirred up a regular hornet’s nest of trouble. We were beset12 by reporterswho wanted news of our romantic marriage, there were articles in the pa-pers about the Guteman heiress and her romantic elopement, there wereletters from bankers and lawyers. And finally official meetings were ar-ranged. We met Santonix on the site of Gipsy’s Acre and we looked at theplans there and discussed things, and then having seen things under waywe came to London, took a suite13 at Claridge’s and prepared, as they say inold world books, to receive cavalry14.
The first to arrive was Mr. Andrew P. Lippincott. He was an elderlyman, dry and precise in appearance. He was long and lean with suave15 andcourteous manners. He was a Bostonian and from his voice I wouldn’thave known he was an American. By arrangement through the telephonehe called upon us in our suite at 12 o’clock. Ellie was nervous, I could tell,although she concealed16 it very well.
Mr. Lippincott kissed Ellie and extended a hand and a pleasant smile tome.
“Well, Ellie my dear, you are looking very well. Blooming, I might say.”
“How are you, Uncle Andrew? How did you come? Did you fly?”
“No, I had a very pleasant trip across on the Queen Mary. And this isyour husband?”
“This is Mike, yes.”
I played up, or thought I did. “How are you, sir?” I said. Then I askedhim if he’d have a drink, which he refused pleasantly. He sat down in anupright chair with gilt17 arms to it and looked, still smiling, from Ellie to me.
“Well,” he said, “you young people have been giving us shocks. All veryromantic, eh?”
“I’m sorry,” said Ellie, “I really am sorry.”
“Are you?” said Mr. Lippincott, rather dryly.
“I thought it was the best way,” said Ellie.
“I am not altogether of your opinion there, my dear.”
“Uncle Andrew,” Ellie said, “you know perfectly18 well that if I’d done itany other way there would have been the most frightful3 fuss.”
“Why should there have been such a frightful fuss?”
“You know what they’d have been like,” said Ellie. “You too,” she addedaccusingly. She added, “I’ve had two letters from Cora. One yesterday andone this morning.”
“You must discount a certain amount of agitation19, my dear. It’s only nat-ural under the circumstances, don’t you think?”
“It’s my business who I get married to and how and where.”
“You may think so, but you will find that the women of any familywould rarely agree as to that.”
“Really, I’ve saved everyone a lot of trouble.”
“You may put it that way.”
“But it’s true, isn’t it?”
“But you practised, did you not, a good deal of deception20, helped bysomeone who should have known better than to do what she did.”
Ellie flushed.
“You mean Greta? She only did what I asked her to. Are they all very up-set with her?”
“Naturally. Neither she nor you could expect anything else, could you?
She was, remember, in a position of trust.”
“I’m of age. I can do what I like.”
“I am speaking of the period of time before you were of age. The decep-tions began then, did they not?”
“You mustn’t blame Ellie, sir,” I said. “To begin with I didn’t know whatwas going on and since all her relations are in another country it wasn’teasy for me to get in touch with them.”
“I quite realize,” said Mr. Lippincott, “that Greta posted certain lettersand gave certain information to Mrs. van Stuyvesant and to myself as shewas requested to do by Ellie here, and made, if I may say so, a very com-petent job of it. You have met Greta Andersen, Michael? I may call you Mi-chael, since you are Ellie’s husband?”
“Of course,” I said, “call me Mike. No, I haven’t met Miss Andersen—”
“Indeed? That seems to me surprising.” He looked at me with a longthoughtful gaze. “I should have thought that she would have been presentat your marriage.”
“No, Greta wasn’t there,” said Ellie. She threw me a look of reproach andI shifted uncomfortably.
Mr. Lippincott’s eyes were still resting on me thoughtfully. He made meuncomfortable. He seemed about to say something more then changed hismind.
“I’m afraid,” he said after a moment or two, “that you two, Michael andEllie, will have to put up with a certain amount of reproaches and criti-cism from Ellie’s family.”
“I suppose they are going to descend21 on me in a bunch,” said Ellie.
“Very probably,” said Mr. Lippincott. “I’ve tried to pave the way,” he ad-ded.
“You’re on our side, Uncle Andrew?” said Ellie, smiling at him.
“You must hardly ask a prudent22 lawyer to go as far as that. I have learntthat in life it is wise to accept what is a fait accompli. You two have fallenin love with each other and have got married and have, I understood youto say, Ellie, bought a piece of property in the South of England and havealready started building a house on it. You propose, therefore, to live inthis country?”
“We want to make our home here, yes. Do you object to our doing that?”
I said with a touch of anger in my voice. “Ellie’s married to me and she’s aBritish subject now. So why shouldn’t she live in England?”
“No reason at all. In fact, there is no reason why Fenella should not livein any country she chooses, or indeed have property in more than onecountry. The house in Nassau belongs to you, remember, Ellie.”
“I always thought it was Cora’s. She always has behaved as though itwas.”
“But the actual property rights are vested in you. You also have thehouse in Long Island whenever you care to visit it. You are the owner of agreat deal of oil-bearing property in the West.” His voice was amiable,pleasant, but I had the feeling that the words were directed at me in somecurious way. Was it his idea of trying to insinuate23 a wedge between meand Ellie? I was not sure. It didn’t seem very sensible, rubbing it in to aman that his wife owned property all over the world and was fabulouslyrich. If anything I should have thought that he would have played downEllie’s property rights and her money and all the rest of it. If I was a for-tune hunter as he obviously thought, that would be all the more grist tomy mill. But I did realize that Mr. Lippincott was a subtle man. It would behard at any time to know what he was driving at; what he had in his mindbehind his even and pleasant manner. Was he trying in a way of his ownto make me feel uncomfortable, to make me feel that I was going to bebranded almost publicly as a fortune hunter? He said to Ellie:
“I’ve brought over a certain amount of legal stuff which you’ll have to gothrough with me, Ellie. I shall want your signature to many of thesethings.”
“Yes, of course, Uncle Andrew. Any time.”
“As you say, any time. There’s no hurry. I have other business in Londonand I shall be over here for about ten days.”
Ten days, I thought. That’s a long time. I rather wished that Mr. Lippin-cott wasn’t going to be here for ten days. He appeared friendly enough to-wards me, though, as you might say, indicating that he still reserved hisjudgment on certain points, but I wondered at that moment whether hewas really my enemy. If he was, he would not be the kind of man to showhis hand.
“Well,” he went on, “now that we’ve all met and come to terms, as youmight say, for the future, I would like to have a short interview with thishusband of yours.”
Ellie said, “You can talk to us both.” She was up in arms. I put a hand onher arm.
“Now don’t flare25 up, ducks, you’re not a mother hen protecting achicken.” I propelled her gently to the door in the wall that led into thebedroom. “Uncle Andrew wants to size me up,” I said. “He’s well withinhis rights.”
I pushed her gently through the double doors. I shut them both andcame back into the room. It was a large handsome sitting room. I cameback and took a chair and faced Mr. Lippincott. “All right,” I said. “Shoot.”
“Thank you, Michael,” he said. “First of all I want to assure you that I amnot, as you may be thinking, your enemy in any way.”
“Well,” I said, “I’m glad to hear that.” I didn’t sound very sure about it.
“Let me speak frankly26,” said Mr. Lippincott, “more frankly than I coulddo before that dear child to whom I am guardian and of whom I am veryfond. You may not yet appreciate it fully6, Michael, but Ellie is a most un-usually sweet and lovable girl.”
“Don’t you worry. I’m in love with her all right.”
“That is not at all the same thing,” said Mr. Lippincott in his dry manner.
“I hope that as well as being in love with her you can also appreciate whata really dear and in some ways very vulnerable person she is.”
“I’ll try,” I said. “I don’t think I’ll have to try very hard. She’s the tops, El-lie is.”
“So I will go on with what I was about to say. I shall put my cards on thetable with the utmost frankness. You are not the kind of young man that Ishould have wished Ellie to marry. I should like her, as her family wouldhave liked her, to marry someone of her own surroundings, of her own set—”
“A toff in other words,” I said.
“No, not only that. A similar background is, I think, to be desired as abasis for matrimony. And I am not referring to the snob27 attitude. After all,Herman Guteman, her grandfather, started life as a dockhand. He endedup as one of the richest men in America.”
“For all you know I might do the same,” I said. “I may end up one of therichest men in England.”
“Everything is possible,” said Mr. Lippincott. “Do you have ambitionsthat way?”
“It’s not just the money,” I said. “I’d like to—I’d like to get somewhereand do things and—” I hesitated, stopped.
“You have ambitions, shall we say? Well, that is a very good thing, I amsure.”
“I’m starting at long odds,” I said, “starting from scratch. I’m nothingand nobody and I won’t pretend otherwise.”
He nodded approval.
“Very frankly and handsomely said, I appreciate it. Now, Michael, I amno relation to Ellie, but I have acted as her guardian, I am a trustee, left soby her grandfather, of her affairs, I manage her fortune and her invest-ments. And I assume therefore a certain responsibility for them. There-fore I want to know all that I can know about the husband she haschosen.”
“Well,” I said, “you can make inquiries28 about me, I suppose, and find outanything you like easily enough.”
“Quite so,” said Mr. Lippincott. “That would be one way of doing it. Awise precaution to take. But actually, Michael, I should like to know allthat I can about you from your own lips. I should like to hear your ownstory of what your life has been up to now.”
Of course I didn’t like it. I expect he knew I wouldn’t. Nobody in my pos-ition would like that. It’s second nature to make the best of yourself. I’dmade a point of that at school and onwards, boasted about things a bit,said a few things, stretching the truth a bit. I wasn’t ashamed of it. I thinkit’s natural. I think it’s the sort of thing that you’ve got to do if you want toget on. Make out a good case for yourself. People take you at your ownvaluation and I didn’t want to be like that chap in Dickens. They read itout on the television, and I must say it’s a good yarn29 on its own. Uriahsomething his name was, always going on about being humble30 and rub-bing his hands, and actually planning and scheming behind that humility31.
I didn’t want to be like that.
I was ready enough to boast a bit with the chaps I met or to put up agood case to a prospective32 employer. After all, you’ve got a best side and aworst side of yourself and it’s no good showing the worst side and harpingon it. No, I’d always done the best for myself describing my activities up todate. But I didn’t fancy doing that sort of thing with Mr. Lippincott. He’drather pooh-poohed the idea of making private inquiries about me but Iwasn’t at all sure that he wouldn’t do so all the same. So I gave him thetruth unvarnished, as you might say.
Squalid beginnings, the fact that my father had been a drunk, but thatI’d had a good mother, that she’d slaved a good bit to help me get edu-cated. I made no secret of the fact that I’d been a rolling stone, that I’dmoved from one job to another. He was a good listener, encouraging, ifyou know what I mean. Every now and then, though, I realized howshrewd he was. Just little questions that he slipped in, or comments, somecomments that I might have rushed in unguardedly either to admit or todeny.
Yes, I had a sort of feeling that I’d better be wary33 and on my toes. Andafter ten minutes I was quite glad when he leaned back in his chair andthe inquisition, if you could call it that, and it wasn’t in the least like one,seemed to be over.
“You have an adventurous34 attitude to life, Mr. Rogers—Michael. Not abad thing. Tell me more about this house that you and Ellie are building.”
“Well,” I said, “it’s not far from a town called Market Chadwell.”
“Yes,” he said, “I know just where it is. As a matter of fact I ran down tosee it. Yesterday, to be exact.”
That startled me a little. It showed he was a devious35 kind of fellow whogot round to more things than you might think he would.
“It’s a beautiful site,” I said defensively, “and the house we’re building isgoing to be a beautiful house. The architect’s a chap called Santonix.
Rudolf Santonix. I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of him but—”
“Oh yes,” said Mr. Lippincott, “he’s quite a well-known name among ar-chitects.”
“He’s done work in the States I believe.”
“Yes, an architect of great promise and talent. Unfortunately I believehis health is not good.”
“He thinks he’s a dying man,” I said, “but I don’t believe it. I believe he’llget cured, get well again. Doctors—they’ll say anything.”
“I hope your optimism is justified36. You are an optimist37.”
“I am about Santonix.”
“I hope all you wish will come true. I may say that I think you and Elliehave made an extremely good purchase in the piece of property that youhave bought.”
I thought it was nice of the old boy to use the pronoun “you.” It wasn’trubbing it in that Ellie had done the buying on her own.
“I have had a consultation38 with Mr. Crawford—”
“Crawford?” I frowned slightly.
“Mr. Crawford of Reece & Crawford, a firm of English solicitors39. Mr.
Crawford was the member of the firm who put the purchase in hand. It isa good firm of solicitors and I gather that this property was acquired at acheap figure. I may say that I wondered slightly at that. I am familiar withthe present prices of land in this country and I really felt rather at a loss toaccount for it. I think Mr. Crawford himself was surprised to get it at solow a figure. I wondered if you knew at all why this property happened togo so cheaply. Mr. Crawford did not advance any opinion on that. In facthe seemed slightly embarrassed when I put the question to him.”
“Oh well,” I said, “it’s got a curse on it.”
“I beg your pardon, Michael, what did you say?”
“A curse, sir,” I explained. “The gipsy’s warning, that sort of thing. It isknown locally as Gipsy’s Acre.”
“Ah. A story?”
“Yes. It seems rather confused and I don’t know how much people havemade up and how much is true. There was a murder or something longago. A man and his wife and another man. Some story that the husbandshot the other two and then shot himself. At least that’s the verdict thatwas brought in. But all sorts of other stories go flying about. I don’t thinkanyone really knows what happened. It was a good long time ago. It’schanged hands about four or five times since, but nobody stays therelong.”
“Ah,” said Mr. Lippincott appreciatively, “yes, quite a piece of Englishfolklore.” He looked at me curiously40. “And you and Ellie are not afraid ofthe curse?” He said it lightly, with a slight smile.
“Of course not,” I said. “Neither Ellie nor I would believe in any rubbishof that kind. Actually it’s a lucky thing since because of it we got it cheap.”
When I said that a sudden thought struck me. It was lucky in one sense,but I thought that with all Ellie’s money and her property and all the restof it, it couldn’t matter to her very much whether she bought a piece ofland cheap or at the top price. Then I thought, no, I was wrong. After all,she’d had a grandfather who came up from being a dock labourer to a mil-lionaire. Anyone of that kind would always wish to buy cheap and selldear.
“Well, I am not superstitious,” said Mr. Lippincott, “and the view fromyour property is quite magnificent.” He hesitated. “I only hope that whenyou come to move into your house to live there, that Ellie will not hear toomany of these stories that are going about.”
“I’ll keep everything from her that I can,” I said. “I don’t suppose any-body will say anything to her.”
“People in country villages are very fond of repeating stories of thatkind,” said Mr. Lippincott. “And Ellie, remember, is not as tough as youare, Michael. She can be influenced easily. Only in some ways. Whichbrings me—” he stopped without going on to say what he had been goingto. He tapped on the table with one finger. “I’m going to speak to you nowon a matter of some difficulty. You said just now that you had not met thisGreta Andersen.”
“No, as I said, I haven’t met her yet.”
“Odd. Very curious.”
“Well?” I looked at him inquiringly.
“I should have thought you’d have been almost sure to have met her,”
he said slowly. “How much do you know about her?”
“I know that she’s been with Ellie some time.”
“She has been with Ellie since Ellie was seventeen. She has occupied apost of some responsibility and trust. She came first to the States in the ca-pacity of secretary and companion. A kind of chaperone to Ellie whenMrs. van Stuyvesant, her stepmother, was away from home, which I maysay was a quite frequent occurrence.” He spoke41 particularly dryly whenhe said this. “She is, I gather, a well-born girl with excellent references,half-Swedish half-German. Ellie became, quite naturally, very much at-tached to her.”
“So I gather,” I said.
“In some way Ellie was, I suppose, almost too much attached to her. Youdon’t mind my saying that?”
“No. Why should I mind? As a matter of fact I’ve—well, I’ve thought somyself once or twice. Greta this and Greta that. I got—well, I know I’ve nobusiness to, but I used to get fed up sometimes.”
“And yet she expressed no wish for you to meet Greta?”
“Well,” I said, “it’s rather difficult to explain. But I think, yes, I think sheprobably did suggest it in a mild way once or twice but, well, we were tootaken up with having met each other. Besides, oh well, I suppose I didn’treally want to meet Greta. I didn’t want to share Ellie with anyone.”
“I see. Yes, I see. And Ellie did not suggest Greta being present at yourwedding?”
“She did suggest it,” I said.
“But—but you didn’t want her to come. Why?”
“I don’t know. I really don’t know. I just felt that this Greta, this girl orwoman I’d never met, she was always horning in on everything. Youknow, arranging Ellie’s life for her. Sending post- cards and letters andfilling in for Ellie, arranging a whole itinerary42 and passing it on to the fam-ily. I felt that Ellie was dependent on Greta in a way, that she let Greta runher, that she wanted to do everything that Greta wanted. I—oh, I’m sorry,Mr. Lippincott, I oughtn’t to be saying all these things perhaps. Say I wasjust plain jealous. Anyway I blew up and I said I didn’t want Greta at thewedding, that the wedding was ours, that it was just our business andnobody else’s. And so we went along to the Registrar’s office and his clerkand the typist from his office were the two witnesses. I dare say it wasmean of me to refuse to have Greta there, but I wanted to have Ellie to my-self.”
“I see. Yes, I see, and I think, if I may say so, that you were wise, Mi-chael.”
“You don’t like Greta either,” I said shrewdly.
“You can hardly use the word ‘either,’ Michael, if you have not even mether.”
“No, I know but, well, I mean if you hear a lot about a person you canform some sort of idea of them, some judgment24 of them. Oh well, call itplain jealousy43. Why don’t you like Greta?”
“This is without prejudice,” said Mr. Lippincott, “but you are Ellie’s hus-band, Michael, and I have Ellie’s happiness very much at heart. I don’tthink that the influence that Greta has over Ellie is a very desirable one.
She takes too much upon herself.”
“Do you think she’ll try and make trouble between us?” I asked.
“I think,” said Mr. Lippincott, “that I have no right to say anything ofthat kind.”
He sat looking cautiously at me, and blinking like a wrinkled old tor-toise.
I didn’t know quite what to say next. He spoke first, choosing his wordswith some care.
“There has been, then, no suggestion that Greta Andersen might take upher residence with you?”
“Not if I can help it,” I said.
“Ah. So that is what you feel? The idea has been mooted44.”
“Ellie did say something of the kind. But we’re newly married, Mr. Lip-pincott. We want our house — our new home — to ourselves. Of courseshe’ll come and stay sometimes, I suppose. That’ll only be natural.”
“As you say, that would be only natural. But you realize, perhaps, thatGreta is going to be in a somewhat difficult position as regards further em-ployment. I mean, it is not a question of what Ellie thinks of her, but ofwhat the people who engaged her and reposed45 trust in her feel.”
“You mean that you or Mrs. van What’s-her-name won’t recommend herfor another post of the same kind?”
“They are hardly likely to do so except so far as to satisfy purely46 legal re-quirements.”
“And you think that she’ll want to come to England and live on Ellie.”
“I don’t want to prejudice you too much against her. After all, this ismostly in my mind. I dislike some of the things she has done and the wayshe has done them. I think that Ellie who has a very generous heart will beupset at having, shall we say, blighted47 Greta’s prospects48 in many ways. Shemight impulsively49 insist on her coming to live with you.”
“I don’t think Ellie will insist,” I said slowly. I sounded a little worried allthe same, and I thought Lippincott noticed it. “But couldn’t we—Ellie, Imean—couldn’t Ellie pension her off?”
“We should not put it precisely50 like that,” said Mr. Lippincott. “There is asuggestion of age about pensioning anyone off and Greta is a young wo-man, and I may say a very handsome young woman. Beautiful, in fact,” headded in a deprecating, disapproving51 voice. “She’s very attractive to men,too.”
“Well, perhaps she’ll marry,” I said. “If she’s all that, why hasn’t she gotmarried before this?”
“There have been people attracted, I believe, but she has not consideredthem. I think, however, that your suggestion is a very sound one. I think itmight be carried out in a way that would not hurt anyone’s susceptibilit-ies. It might seem quite a natural thing to do on Ellie’s having attained52 hermajority and having had her marriage helped on by Greta’s good offices—settle a sum of money upon her in a fit of gratitude53.” Mr. Lippincott madethe last two words sound as sour as lemon juice.
“Well, then, that’s all right,” I said cheerfully.
“Again I see that you are an optimist. Let us hope that Greta will acceptwhat is offered to her.”
“Why shouldn’t she? She’d be mad if she didn’t.”
“I don’t know,” said Mr. Lippincott. “I should say it would be extraordin-ary if she did not accept, and they will remain on terms of friendship, ofcourse.”
“You think—what do you think?”
“I would like to see her influence over Ellie broken,” said Mr. Lippincott.
He got up. “You will, I hope, assist me and do everything you can to fur-ther that end?”
“You bet I will,” I said. “The last thing I want is to have Greta in ourpockets all the time.”
“You might change your mind when you see her,” said Mr. Lippincott.
“I don’t think so,” I said. “I don’t like managing females, however effi-cient and even handsome they are.”
“Thank you, Michael, for listening to me so patiently. I hope you willgive me the pleasure of dining with me, both of you. Possibly next Tuesdayevening? Cora van Stuyvesant and Frank Barton will probably be in Lon-don by that time.”
“And I’ve got to meet them, I suppose?”
“Oh yes, that will be quite inevitable54.” He smiled at me and this time hissmile seemed more genuine than it had before. “You mustn’t mind toomuch,” he said. “Cora, I expect, will be very rude to you. Frank will bemerely tactless. Reuben won’t be over just at present.”
I didn’t know who Reuben was—another relation I supposed.
I went across to the connecting doors and opened them. “Come on, El-lie,” I said, “the grilling55 is over.”
She came back in the room and looked quickly from Lippincott to my-self, then she went across and kissed him.
“Dear Uncle Andrew,” she said. “I can see you’ve been nice to Michael.”
“Well, my dear, if I weren’t nice to your husband you wouldn’t havemuch use for me in the future, would you? I do reserve the right to give afew words of advice now and then. You’re very young you know, both ofyou.”
“All right,” said Ellie, “we’ll listen patiently.”
“Now, my dear, I’d like to have a word with you if I may.”
“My turn to be odd man out,” I said, and I too went into the bedroom.
I shut the two double doors ostentatiously but I opened the inner oneagain after I got inside. I hadn’t been as well brought up as Ellie so I felt abit anxious to find out how double-faced Mr. Lippincott might turn out tobe. But actually there was nothing I need have listened to. He gave Ellieone or two wise words of advice. He said she must realize that I might findit difficult to be a poor man married to a rich wife and then he went on tosound her about making a settlement on Greta. She agreed to it eagerlyand said she’d been going to ask him that herself. He also suggested thatshe should make an additional settlement on Cora van Stuyvesant.
“There is no earthly need that you should do so,” he said. “She has beenvery well provided for in the matter of alimony from several husbands.
And she is as you know paid an income, though not a very big one, fromthe trust fund left by your grandfather.”
“But you think I ought to give her more still?”
“I think there is no legal or moral obligation to do so. What I think isthat you will find her far less tiresome56 and shall I say catty if you do so. Ishould make it in the form of an increased income, which you could re-voke at any time. If you find that she has been spreading malicious57 ru-mours about Michael or yourself or your life together, the knowledge thatyou can do that will keep her tongue free of those more poisonous barbsthat she so well knows how to plant.”
“Cora has always hated me,” said Ellie. “I’ve known that.” She addedrather shyly, “You do like Mike, don’t you, Uncle Andrew?”
“I think he’s an extremely attractive young man,” said Mr. Lippincott.
“And I can quite see how you came to marry him.”
That, I suppose, was as good as I could expect. I wasn’t really his typeand I knew it. I eased the door gently to and in a minute or two Ellie cameto fetch me.
We were both standing58 saying good-bye to Lippincott when there was aknock on the door and a page boy came in with a telegram. Ellie took itand opened it. She gave a little surprised cry of pleasure.
“It’s Greta,” she said, “she’s arriving in London tonight and she’ll becoming to see us tomorrow. How lovely.” She looked at us both. “Isn’t it?”
she said.
She saw two sour faces and heard two polite voices saying, one: “Yes in-deed, my dear,” the other one, “Of course.”
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
hustle
|
|
| v.推搡；竭力兜售或获取；催促；n.奔忙(碌) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
guardian
|
|
| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
frightful
|
|
| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
exclamations
|
|
| n.呼喊( exclamation的名词复数 )；感叹；感叹语；感叹词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
placid
|
|
| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
fully
|
|
| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
obsessed
|
|
| adj.心神不宁的,鬼迷心窍的,沉迷的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
liking
|
|
| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
varied
|
|
| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
remarkably
|
|
| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
prophesied
|
|
| v.预告，预言( prophesy的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
beset
|
|
| v.镶嵌；困扰，包围 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
suite
|
|
| n.一套(家具)；套房；随从人员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
cavalry
|
|
| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
suave
|
|
| adj.温和的；柔和的；文雅的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
concealed
|
|
| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
gilt
|
|
| adj.镀金的；n.金边证券 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
perfectly
|
|
| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
agitation
|
|
| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
deception
|
|
| n.欺骗，欺诈；骗局，诡计 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
descend
|
|
| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
prudent
|
|
| adj.谨慎的，有远见的，精打细算的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
insinuate
|
|
| vt.含沙射影地说，暗示 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
judgment
|
|
| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
flare
|
|
| v.闪耀，闪烁；n.潮红；突发 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
frankly
|
|
| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
snob
|
|
| n.势利小人，自以为高雅、有学问的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
inquiries
|
|
| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
yarn
|
|
| n.纱，纱线，纺线；奇闻漫谈，旅行轶事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
humble
|
|
| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
humility
|
|
| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
prospective
|
|
| adj.预期的，未来的，前瞻性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
wary
|
|
| adj.谨慎的，机警的，小心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
adventurous
|
|
| adj.爱冒险的；惊心动魄的，惊险的，刺激的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
devious
|
|
| adj.不坦率的，狡猾的；迂回的，曲折的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
justified
|
|
| a.正当的，有理的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
optimist
|
|
| n.乐观的人，乐观主义者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
consultation
|
|
| n.咨询；商量；商议；会议 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
solicitors
|
|
| 初级律师( solicitor的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
curiously
|
|
| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
spoke
|
|
| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
itinerary
|
|
| n.行程表，旅行路线；旅行计划 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
jealousy
|
|
| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
mooted
|
|
| adj.未决定的，有争议的，有疑问的v.提出…供讨论( moot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
reposed
|
|
| v.将（手臂等）靠在某人（某物）上( repose的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
purely
|
|
| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
blighted
|
|
| adj.枯萎的，摧毁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
prospects
|
|
| n.希望，前途(恒为复数) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
impulsively
|
|
| adv.冲动地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
precisely
|
|
| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
disapproving
|
|
| adj.不满的，反对的v.不赞成( disapprove的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
attained
|
|
| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
gratitude
|
|
| adj.感激，感谢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
inevitable
|
|
| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
grilling
|
|
| v.烧烤( grill的现在分词 )；拷问，盘问 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
tiresome
|
|
| adj.令人疲劳的，令人厌倦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
malicious
|
|
| adj.有恶意的，心怀恶意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |