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by Henry Handel Richardson

Still, the conversation left him visibly less jubilant. While from the interview he had some days later with Wilding himself, he returned tired and headachy �� always a bad sign where Richard was concerned. He met Mary with a: ��Well, my dear, all our troubles are now over!���� which was true in so far as the business side of the affair had gone off smoothly. The transfer had been effected, power of attorney given, new investments arranged for, his existing share-list overhauled and revised. But . . . well, he had not been very favourably impressed by the man himself. He could find no likeness in him to the portrait drawn by Purdy �� and probably amplified by his own mind, which looked for a second Simmonds �� of a staid and dignified man of affairs. No, Wilding was again one of your rough diamonds: over-familiar, slangy, a back-slapper, and, like every one else here, in a tearing hurry: he hardly bothered to listen to what you said, knew everything you were going to say beforehand, and better than you. His appearance, too, was against him �� at least to one who set store by the fleshly screen. Wilding had a small, oblique eye; fat, pursed lips; fat, grubby fingers on which flashy rings twinkled; a diamond pin that took your breath away. Also, from an injudicious word he let drop, the idea leapt at Mahony . . . well, it might be pure fancy on his part . . . or owing to these unlovely looks . . . besides it was only a fleeting impression . . . vaguely troubling. But come! it would not do to let a personal antipathy to the man��s appearance prejudice you against him . . . as Mary was never tired of preaching. What though Wilding was no beauty? Whose hands here WERE impeccably clean? Was this not just the type of your modern broker, as compared with one of the old school? The main thing, the only thing that really mattered was that he should prove alert and up-to-date. And in this respect his credentials were of the first water. What was more, it leaked out, in something he said, that Purdy had already been in correspondence with him over the affair. Might one not safely assume a hint on Purdy��s part that he himself meant to keep an eye on things, during his friend��s absence from the colony?

��Oh, that would never do,�� said Mary with a smile. And their hands, which had met, fell apart at the sound of footsteps.

��I deny that I��m a snob. I��d invite my butcher or my baker to the house any day, so long as he had decent manners and took an interest in what interests me.��