Roy Kindermere pocketed Mrs. Leverson’s cheque with a smile and that easy grace of his and with a few well-chosen words, put on his hat and overcoat and left the great florid house, thankful that his uncongenial task was finished. If there was one thing more than another he hated, it was this ‘Man from Blankney’s’ business, by which he was forced to get a living. Still, what was a man to do, when he had been brought up to nothing, and had, moreover, quarrelled with the one relative in the world who could and should have made his life at least worth living.
Not that the quarrel was any of Roy’s seeking; indeed, it was a wonderful exploit on his part that he had managed to keep on terms of something like amity with his eccentric uncle, the Earl of Kindale. For Kindale was, to all practical purposes, a miser, a man who lived in one corner of his magnificent town house, waited upon by a single servant, and in the habit of taking his frugal meals at his club, where he spoke to nobody, and, on the other hand, nobody noticed him. For the rest, he was a cross-grained old gentleman, without a single drop of the milk of human kindness in his veins.
Some day or another all his wealth and all his property would go to Roy, for the simple reason that the old man could not leave it to anybody else. And, meanwhile, he cared little whether his next-of-kin lived or died, and so it came about that, after the war, the Honourable Roy Kindermere was thrown entirely on his own resources.
They led him eventually into the service of a big co-operative store, where he acted as a sort of commercial traveller. And then, by gradual degrees, he found himself in touch with the new rich, who liked his manners and irreproachable appearance, but that was not until Mrs. Leverson came along with her ostentation and her vulgar wealth, and made the tentative suggestion that Roy should attend one of her dinner parties, ostensibly at a guest.
What she really wanted was for her friends to read in the Press that amongst the dinner guests was the Honourable Roy Kindermere, the heir of the Earl of Kindale, and she was quite prepared to pay a handsome sum for the privilege. And Roy, needing money badly, and, moreover, the fortunate possessor of a keen sense of humour, fell in with the scheme readily enough...
Not that the quarrel was any of Roy’s seeking; indeed, it was a wonderful exploit on his part that he had managed to keep on terms of something like amity with his eccentric uncle, the Earl of Kindale. For Kindale was, to all practical purposes, a miser, a man who lived in one corner of his magnificent town house, waited upon by a single servant, and in the habit of taking his frugal meals at his club, where he spoke to nobody, and, on the other hand, nobody noticed him. For the rest, he was a cross-grained old gentleman, without a single drop of the milk of human kindness in his veins.
Some day or another all his wealth and all his property would go to Roy, for the simple reason that the old man could not leave it to anybody else. And, meanwhile, he cared little whether his next-of-kin lived or died, and so it came about that, after the war, the Honourable Roy Kindermere was thrown entirely on his own resources.
They led him eventually into the service of a big co-operative store, where he acted as a sort of commercial traveller. And then, by gradual degrees, he found himself in touch with the new rich, who liked his manners and irreproachable appearance, but that was not until Mrs. Leverson came along with her ostentation and her vulgar wealth, and made the tentative suggestion that Roy should attend one of her dinner parties, ostensibly at a guest.
What she really wanted was for her friends to read in the Press that amongst the dinner guests was the Honourable Roy Kindermere, the heir of the Earl of Kindale, and she was quite prepared to pay a handsome sum for the privilege. And Roy, needing money badly, and, moreover, the fortunate possessor of a keen sense of humour, fell in with the scheme readily enough...
