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found so fascinating。
Ah； Harold was too handsome； too handsome by far； that had been the
trouble all along。 No man had a right to such eyes； such lashes； and such
lips； it was uncanny。 As for his mother； his sisters； and the servants； it
was not too much to say they made a young god of him； they worshipped
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Harold； they forgave him everything； and he had needed some forgiving
ever since the time when he was thirteen and he had stolen his mother's
purse； taken the money； and hidden the purse in the cook's bedroom。 Old
Mr。 Neave struck sharply with his stick upon the pavement edge。 But it
wasn't only his family who spoiled Harold； he reflected； it was everybody；
he had only to look and to smile； and down they went before him。 So
perhaps it wasn't to be wondered at that he expected the office to carry on
the tradition。 H'm； h'm！ But it couldn't be done。 No businessnot
even a successful； established； big paying concerncould be played with。
A man had either to put his whole heart and soul into it； or it went all to
pieces before his eyes。。。
And then Charlotte and the girls were always at him to make the whole
thing over to Harold； to retire； and to spend his time enjoying himself。
Enjoying himself！ Old Mr。 Neave stopped dead under a group of ancient
cabbage palms outside the Government buildings！ Enjoying himself！
The wind of evening shook the dark leaves to a thin airy cackle。 Sitting
at home； twiddling his thumbs； conscious all the while that his life's work
was slipping away； dissolving； disappearing through Harold's fine fingers；
while Harold smiled。。。
〃Why will you be so unreasonable； father？ There's absolutely no
need for you to go to the office。 It only makes it very awkward for us
when people persist in saying how tired you're looking。 Here's this huge
house and garden。 Surely you could be happy ininappreciating it for a
change。 Or you could take up some hobby。〃
And Lola the baby had chimed in loftily； 〃All men ought to have
hobbies。 It makes life impossible if they haven't。〃
Well； well！ He couldn't help a grim smile as painfully he began to
climb the hill that led into Harcourt Avenue。 Where would Lola and her
sisters and Charlotte be if he'd gone in for hobbies； he'd like to know？
Hobbies couldn't pay for the town house and the seaside bungalow； and
their horses； and their golf； and the sixty…guinea gramophone in the music…
room for them to dance to。 Not that he grudged them these things。 No；
they were smart； good…looking girls； and Charlotte was a remarkable
woman； it was natural for them to be in the swim。 As a matter of fact； no
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other house in the town was as popular as theirs； no other family
entertained so much。 And how many times old Mr。 Neave； pushing the
cigar box across the smoking…room table； had listened to praises of his
wife； his girls； of himself even。
〃You're an ideal family； sir； an ideal family。 It's like something one
reads about or sees on the stage。〃
〃That's all right； my boy；〃 old Mr。 Neave would reply。 〃Try one of
those； I think you'll like them。 And if you care to smoke in the garden；
you'll find the girls on the lawn； I dare say。〃
That was why the girls had never married； so people said。 They
could have married anybody。 But they had too good a time at home。
They were too happy together； the girls and Charlotte。 H'm； h'm！ Well；
well。 Perhaps so。。。
By this time he had walked the length of fashionable Harcourt Avenue；
he had reached the corner house； their house。 The carriage gates were
pushed back； there were fresh marks of wheels on the drive。 And then he
faced the big white…painted house； with its wide…open windows； its tulle
curtains floating outwards； its blue jars of hyacinths on the broad sills。
On either side of the carriage porch their hydrangeasfamous in the town…
… were coming into flower； the pinkish； bluish masses of flower lay like
light among the spreading leaves。 And somehow； it seemed to old Mr。
Neave that the house and the flowers； and even the fresh marks on the
drive； were saying； 〃There is young life here。 There are girls〃
The hall； as always； was dusky with wraps； parasols； gloves； piled on
the oak chests。 From the music…room sounded the piano； quick； loud and
impatient。 Through the drawing…room door that was ajar voices floated。
〃And were there ices？〃 came from Charlotte。 Then the creak； creak
of her rocker。
〃Ices！〃 cried Ethel。 〃My dear mother； you never saw such ices。
Only two kinds。 And one a common little strawberry shop ice； in a
sopping wet frill。〃
〃The food altogether was too appalling；〃 came from Marion。
〃Still； it's rather early for ices；〃 said Charlotte easily。
〃But why； if one has them at all 。。。〃 began Ethel。
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〃Oh； quite so； darling；〃 crooned Charlotte。
Suddenly the music…room door opened and Lola dashed out。 She
started； she nearly screamed； at the sight of old Mr。 Neave。
〃Gracious； father！ What a fright you gave me！ Have you just come
home？ Why isn't Charles here to help you off with your coat？〃
Her cheeks were crimson from playing； her eyes glittered； the hair fell
over her forehead。 And she breathed as though she had come running
through the dark and was frightened。 Old Mr。 Neave stared at his
youngest daughter； he felt he had never seen her before。 So that was
Lola； was it？ But she seemed to have forgotten her father； it was not for
him that she was waiting there。 Now she put the tip of her crumpled
handkerchief between her teeth and tugged at it angrily。 The telephone
rang