Chapter 2 4-5

The Love Story of Spillikins (4) "She's wonderful!" he said to the little green girl Nora at least ten times a day.And Nora agreed every time, because she really found Philippa a very attractive girl. There is no doubt that Mr. Spillikins might have proposed to Miss Furlong had the circumstances been slightly altered.Indeed, he spent a lot of time mentally rehearsing his proposal, beginning with: "Of course I know I'm kind of dumb in some ways," or "Of course I know I'm not good enough," and so on.But these proposals were never expressed. For on Tuesday, exactly a week after Mr. Spillikins' arrival, Philippa went to the station again in that car.She was accompanied by another person on her return, a tall lad in tweed, and they had greeted the Newberys before they were at least a hundred yards away.

The Newberry couple suddenly exclaimed, "Oh, it's Tom!" and ran to meet them.When the young couple got out of the car and carried Tom's suitcase to the verandah, there was such joy and laughter that Mr. Spillikins, like the little green girl, felt both Suddenly and utterly bewildered—especially when he heard the words from the opening pleasantries: "Congratulations, Mrs. Newberry, we're engaged." Next, Mr. Spillikins sat down with some interest in a wicker chair on the veranda to listen, and learned that Philippa and Tom had been engaged for life for a long time—nearly two weeks, in fact. , except that they both agreed to keep their engagement a secret until Tom returned from visiting family in North Carolina before announcing it.As to who Tom was, or what his connection to the Newberry family was, Mr. Spillikins neither knew nor cared. The fact that he and the Newberrys had known each other for a long time, and so on, did not interest Spillikins in the slightest.In fact, if ever there was ever a moment when Mr. Spillikins confirmed what he privately thought of himself, it was this moment.

Tom and Philippa disappeared together the next day. "We're going to be a little country for a while now," said Mrs. Newberry. "Yes, we're all there until Mrs. Everwalley comes, and she's not coming for a fortnight." The little green girl was heartily pleased about it, for she had been apprehensive that other girls would come here, and as for Mrs Everley, she knew she was a widow with four sons, so must have been over forty. Years old, already half-old mistress. Mr. Spillikins spent almost all the next few days in Nora's company, which he thought were pleasant on the whole, but passed too slowly.For her, these days are nothing more than a dream of perfect happiness, which she will never forget.

The Newberys left them alone, not on purpose, but simply because the Newberys had a lot of business to do at the little castle of Casteggio, and they were busy running around. , either blasting rocks with explosives, erecting steel bridges over ditches, or using cranes to hoist large pieces of wood.No wonder they were, for they were not always able to handle explosives and manipulate the forces of nature.I think there was a time--it was a long time ago--that the Newberrys lived on twenty dollars a week, and Mrs. Newberry had to make her own clothes, and Newberry had to have a Another night of hard work building a shelf for the living room myself.Those are old things.Since then, like many others in the early years, Mr. Newberry has risen slowly, made a lot of money, and built the Castle of Casteggio, while others, like Nora His father is still the same as before.

Anyway, the Newberys left Peter and Norah to themselves all day.Often in the evening, even after supper, Mr. Newberry would call to his wife in the darkness, his voice coming from some distant corner of the lawn: "Come here, Margaret, Tell me if you think we ought to cut down this elm, uproot the stump, and throw it into the valley." The wife replied, "Wait a minute, Edward, while I put on my coat first." By the time they got back the night was dark and they had blown up half of the field again. And all this time Mr. Spillikins and Nora were usually sitting on the veranda.He talked on and on, and she listened attentively.For example, he told her about his horrible experience in the oil business, about his exciting college years.Soon they'd probably be in the house, Nora playing the piano, and Mr. Spillikins sitting listening and smoking.Since ammunition and more powerful explosives were the order of the day at the Newberry house, smoking a cigarette in the living room was a piece of cake.As for the music, Mr. Spillikins said, "Go on, I don't know music, but I don't dislike it at all."

During the day they play tennis to pass the time.There's a tennis court at one end of the lawn, just under those trees.The sun's rays filtered through the leaves and sprinkled the field with specks of light, which Norah thought were beautiful, though Mr. Spillikins explained that they blinded his eyes and he lost the game.In fact, it was entirely because of this bad light that Mr. Spillikins' fast breaks, despite their fine moves, somehow kept the ball out of bounds. Of course Nora thought Mr. Spillikins was a terrific tennis player.She was delighted—as was both of them, in fact—that he beat her 6-0.She didn't know, and didn't care, that there was no one else in the world whom Mr. Spillikins could defeat so completely.He even said to her once, "My God! You're a bit of a bad player, you know. I thought, you see, you'll get better with a lot of practice."

Since then, they have tacitly turned playing ball into more or less lessons, and Mr. Spillikins has been pushed to the throne of coach, and those stinky balls he played are naturally regarded as random. And the result of the fight.Also, in addition to ball play becoming a lesson, picking up the ball from the net and throwing it back to Mr. Spillikins became Nora's obligation.He made her do it, not out of rudeness, he had no such bad habits, but because in a place as primitive as Casteggio, the natural primordial relationship between the sexes inevitably reappears .But Mr. Spillikins never thought of love.He had looked at it so eagerly and often from a distance before, and now he did not recognize it as it stood humbly at his elbow.His mind was used to associating love with certain dizzying and exciting things, Easter hats, harem skirts, unattainable romance, and so on.

But even so, what will happen between the man and woman is unpredictable.Playing tennis on a court where the sun's light spots and the shadows of leaves are confusing is also a certain danger.One day, the two of them were standing on opposite sides of the net, and Spillikins was showing Nora the correct grip so she could smash the backhand as beautifully as he did—he usually Far away in the middle of the lake, to demonstrate how to hold the racket and smash, he proudly put his hand on Nora's hand holding the racket, so for half a second her hand was firmly held. In his hand, if that half-second had been extended to a full second, it was probable that something already in his subconscious would pop up vigorously, and Norah's hand would remain in him. hands—how she would! —Then they will stay together like this forever.

But just at this moment, Mr. Spillikins looked up and said in an extraordinary tone: "My God! Who's that gorgeous woman getting out of the car?" So their hands loosened.Nora looked across the room and said, "Oh, it's Mrs Everwalley. I thought she wasn't coming for another week." "Wow," said Mr. Spillikins, pushing his short-sighted eyes to the max, "that's pretty blond hair, isn't it?" "Uh, it's—" Nora hesitated to speak.It seemed that it would not be good to tell him that Mrs. Wenvale's hair was dyed blond. "And who is that tall man standing next to him?" asked Mr. Spillikins.

"Captain Cormorant, I think, but I don't think he'll stay here any longer. He just drove her up here from the city." "Oh, what a man he is!" said Spillikins, though he himself did not realize that this fondness for Captain Cormorant would become his chief feeling for the man afterwards. "I didn't know she'd be here so soon," said Nora, with a tinge of boredom in her.She didn't know that, of course, and she didn't know--nor anyone else--that Mrs. Everwalley was visiting because Mr. Spillikins was there.She had come for a purpose, and she had sent Captain Cormorant straight away, as she did not wish him to be at Castagio Castle.

The Love Story of Spillikins (5) "Shall we go back to the house?" Nora asked. "Well, let's go," replied Mr. Spillikins, most cheerfully. Since Mrs. Everley has become Mrs. Everley-Spillikins at the beginning of the story, there is no need to dwell on the various stages of Mr. Spillikins' courtship.The whole courtship was swift and happy.As soon as Mr. Spillikins saw the back of Mrs. Everleigh's head, he immediately decided that she was the most beautiful woman in the world.This impression was not easily corrected in the gloom of a closely screened drawing-room; at night, across the dining table, in the wax light that cast dark red shadows; Can't see for real.In any case, it is fair to say that even if Mrs. Everwalley was and is not a uniquely beautiful woman, Mr. Spillikins remains in the dark.As for Mrs. Everwalley's charm, the respect Captain Cormoran and Colonel Hawke paid for her is enough to explain the problem. In short, Mr. Spillikins' love—and it must be love—quickly achieved its goal.Each of its stages has a precise milestone, which is his commentary to Nora. "She's such a wonderful woman," he said, "so understanding, she always seems to know what you're going to say next." Of course she did, because she forced him to say it. "My God!" he said the next day, "Mrs. Everwalley is very kind, isn't she? I've only been talking about my oil business for a while, and she immediately thinks I must be good with money. .She said she wished I could take care of her money." This is also true, except that Mrs. Awalley didn't say that managing her money was just to improve her what is usually called "not making ends meet". economic status.In fact, roughly speaking, her money does not exist, it does require a lot of financial work. A day or two later Mr. Spillikins said: "I suppose Mrs. Everleigh must have been very sad, don't you think? Last night she showed me a picture of her little son-- She has a little son, you know—" "Yes, I know," said Nora.She did not add that she knew that Mrs. Everwalley had four sons. "And she said she was really upset that she had to keep him at Mr. So-and-so's college without him with her." A short time later, Mr. Spillikins spoke again, his voice trembling violently: "My God! Really, how lucky I am! I never thought she would marry me, you know Well—a woman like her, so many people admire her, they can have everything they want. I can't imagine what she thinks of me." This sentence couldn't be more appropriate. Spillikins cut off his endless compliments later when he noticed—this was a morning on the porch—that Nora had her hat and coat on and the car was driving toward the door. past. "Hello," he said, "are you going?" "Yeah, you don't know?" said Nora. "I thought you heard them at supper last night. I gotta go home. Papa's pretty lonely at home, you know." "Oh, I'm so sorry," said Mr. Spillikins, "that we can't play tennis together." "Good-bye," said Nora, holding out a hand, and her eyes filled with tears.Mr. Billy Kings Because of myopia, I didn't see her tears that were about to flow. "Goodbye," he said. He stood there in a daze for a while as the car drove her away.Perhaps something that already existed rose up in him vaguely and unpredictably.But then a call from the inner living room brought him back to his senses, the voice was moderate but unambiguous: "Peter, dear, where are you?" "Here we come," he called, and he passed. On the day after the engagement, Mrs. Everwalley showed Peter a small photograph from her pectoral. "This is Gibb, my second youngest," she said. Mr. Spillikins began by saying, "I didn't know you still—" and then restraining himself, he said, "My God! What a handsome lad, eh? I like boys. " "Dear little chap, isn't he?" said Mrs. Everwalley. "He's a lot taller now than in the picture, because the picture was taken some time ago." The next day she said, "This is Willie, my third son." The next day she said, "This is Sib, my youngest son. I'm sure you'll like him." "I believe I will," said Mr. Spillikins.Since he is the youngest, he likes it too. And so, as the time came--not too ripe, actually, about five weeks--Peter Spillikins and Mrs. There was a wedding.Their wedding was the grandest and most luxurious of all the weddings held in September.There are flowers innumerable, ladies in long veils, tall protocol officers in frock coats, fleets of cars with wedding gifts for invited chauffeurs, everything in Plutoria Street has everything you need to show the sacredness of a wedding like no other.The face of the young clergyman, Mr. Philvers Furlong, was sanctified by the labor of five hundred dollars.The whole town was there, or at least everyone of distinction was there.If there was one person who didn't come, but sat alone in a shabby street, in the dark drawing room of a dead house on the street, who knew or cared about her? After the wedding, the happy couple—are they not happy? —departed for New York.They spent their honeymoon there.They had thought of going to Maine Beach—Mr. Spillikins' idea.But Mrs. Everleigh-Spillikins said it was much better to go to New York, and New York was so quiet, but Maine beaches were known to be terribly noisy. In addition, the Evalley-Spillikins couple hadn't stayed in New York for four or five days. Captain Cormorant's warship happened to berth in the Hudson River. there.So the captain was able to show Mrs. Everett-Spillikins around New York, and hold a meeting for Mrs. Everett-Spillikins on the deck of the ship, designed to enable her to get acquainted with the officers. A tea party, and another tea party he had given in a back room of a hotel on the Rue Diard, so that she could be with him without being disturbed by anyone else.Captain Cormorant said (among other things, of course) at this tea party, which was just the two of them, "Isn't he very annoyed when you told him about the money?" Mrs. Everley--Mrs. Everley-Spillikins now--said: "He won't! I think he's glad to know I'm penniless. You know, A. Sir, he is indeed a very good man." As she said this, she took her hand from under Captain Cormorant's on the tea table. "Well," said the captain, "don't get sentimental about him." The above is the history of the Evalley-Spillikins family coming to live in Plutoria Street. Their mansion is a beautiful stone house, and the second floor of the annex to the house is the one mentioned at the beginning. Billiard room.You could hear billiard balls hitting through the windows, and a voice yelled, "Wait a minute, Daddy, you've already hit it." The first series of my financial career As soon as I entered the bank, I panicked.The clerks scare me; the little windows scare me; the white bills scare me; everything in there scares me. When I went to the bank, I wanted to deal with it in terms of making money, but as soon as I stepped through its threshold, I suddenly became a fool without thinking. I've expected this to happen, but my monthly salary has been increased to fifty yuan, and I don't think there is anything else to do but deposit it in the bank. So, I staggered into the bank and looked around the staff timidly.I thought to myself, if a person wants to open an account, he has to talk to the bank manager first. I went to the small window marked "Accountant".The accountant was a tall, cold, fierce figure.I panicked when I saw him.My voice is also gloomy. "Can I see the manager?" I said, and added gravely, "Private." I don't know why I said "Privately." "Of course," said the accountant, and went to the manager. The manager is a serious and steady man.I clutched the crumpled fifty-six dollars in my pocket tightly. "Are you the manager?" I said.To be honest, I actually don't doubt that. "Yes," he said. "Can I—" I said, "see you alone?" I didn't want to say the word "alone" at first, but the meaning seemed clear enough if I didn't. The manager looked at me warily.He felt that I had a terrible secret to reveal to him. "Come here," he said, leading me to a secret room.He turned the key in the lock. "No one disturbs us here," he said. "Sit down." We both sat down, he looked at me and I looked at him.I am speechless. "I suppose you're from Pinkerton?" he said. He deduced from my mysterious behavior that I was a detective.I knew what he was thinking, which made me even more overwhelmed. "No, not Pinkerton," I said, as if to imply that I was from another comparable detective firm. "To be honest," I went on, as if I had been compelled to lie earlier, "I'm not a detective at all. I'm here to open an account. I want to deposit all my money in this bank." The manager was relieved, but still serious.Now he believes that I am either the son of the rich Baron Rothschild, or a descendant of the famous Gould family. "A lot of money, I suppose," he said. "It's quite a lot," I whispered. "I'd like to save fifty-six dollars first, and fifty dollars a month thereafter." The manager stood up and opened the door.He greeted the accountant loudly. "Mr. Montgomery," he cried, at the top of his voice with uneasy kindness, "this gentleman wants to open an account, and he wants to deposit fifty-six dollars. Good-bye." I also stood up. On one side of the secret room, a large iron door was open. "Goodbye," I said, and stepped into the vault. "Come out." The manager said coldly, telling me to go out another way. I went to the accountant's window and threw the crumpled money in front of him, jerky and convulsive, as if I were juggling. My face was dead white. "Here," I said, "save it." The tone seemed to say, "Let's finish this drudgery while the iron is hot." He took that money and gave it to another clerk. He asked me to write down the deposit amount on a note, and asked me to sign a notebook.I can no longer figure out what I'm doing.The bank dangled before my eyes. "Save it?" I asked in a dull, trembling voice. "Save it," said the accountant. "I would like to draw a check for money." My original intention was to take out six dollars for immediate use.Someone handed me a checkbook through a small window, and another started telling me how to fill it out.The people at the bank probably thought I was a screwed up millionaire.I slapped the check and slipped it in and gave it to the clerk, who looked at it. "What! You want to take them all out again?" He asked in astonishment.Only then did I realize that I wanted to write "six" but wrote "fifty-six".I'm totally messed up now.I feel like this is beyond words.All the clerks stopped writing and stared at me. Now that I'm in such a mess, I simply don't do it, and I don't stop. "Yes, all of them." "You want to take all your money?" "Not a penny." "Aren't you saving any more?" the clerk asked in surprise. "Never again." I suddenly had an inexplicable idea: maybe they thought I was being slighted when filling out the check, so they changed their minds.I tried my best to pretend that I was a very irritable, easily irritable person. The clerk was going to pay me. "How do you spend your money?" he asked. "what?" "What face value do you want?" "Oh—" I understood what he meant, and replied without thinking, "50 to 50" He gave me a fifty bill. "What about the six dollars?" he asked dryly. "It's six dollars a piece," I said. He gave me the six dollars and I rushed out of the bank. As the revolving door spun behind me, I heard such a roar of laughter that the ceiling almost fell down in the bank.Since that time, I never go to the bank to save money.I kept my cash in my trouser pocket, and the money I had left I hid in silver in a sock. The first series of new food I read this news from the current affairs column of the newspaper: "Professor Plum of the University of Chicago recently invented a highly concentrated food. All the nutrients needed by the human body are concentrated in a small pill. The nutrient content of the nutrient is equivalent to one to two hundred times that of an ounce of common food. By diluting with water, this small nine can form various nutrients necessary for the human body. Professor Plum believes that this invention can bring a revolution to the current food structure. " In terms of its advantages, this food may be the best, but it also has its disadvantages.It is not difficult for us to imagine that in the future years that Professor Plumm envisions, there may be such accidents: A happy family sits around a hospitable table.The decorations on the table are very rich. A soup plate is placed in front of every smiling child, a bucket of hot water is placed in front of the radiant mother, and the Christmas dinner of this happy family is placed at the head of the table. It was placed on a playing card and respectfully covered with a thimble.The children whispered in anticipation, but fell silent when their father rose to his feet.The father lifted the thimble, and a tiny, concentrated nutrient nine stared out, on the playing card in front of him.Wow!Christmas turkey, wild cherry sauce, prunes, mincemeat pie - you name it, it's all there, all concentrated in that little ball, just waiting to be watered and swollen!The father looked back and forth between the meatball and heaven a few times, and then he began to bless loudly with reverence from the heart. Just then, the mother let out a scream of pain. "Oh, Henry, hurry up! The baby has taken Jiu Zi away." It is absolutely true.Their precious son, Gustav Adolphus, the little blond guy, grabbed a whole Christmas dinner pie from a deck of cards and stuffed it into his mouth.Three hundred and fifty pounds of concentrated nutrition rolled down the esophagus of that ignorant child. "Clap him on the back!" cried the panicked mother. "Give him some water!" The thought was fatal.The grain of the son began to swell at the sight of water.First there was a muffled grunt coming from the baby's belly, followed by a terrible explosion - Gustav.Adolphus was blown to pieces. When the family members pieced together the child's tiny body, there was a smile that lingered on his parted lips. Only a child who ate thirteen Christmas meals in one go would have such a smile. The first series pointed out his faults "Oh, Mr. Seplin, come," said the pretty girl at the Summer Hotel, "you must show me your palm! I can show you all your faults." Mr. Seplin gave an indistinct chuckle, and a flush of embarrassment flashed across his face.Ashamed as he was, he held out his palm and let the charming little witch take it. "Oh, you're all wrong, all over, Mr. Sepling!" she cried. Mr. Seplin looks a bit like that. "The first thing I want to say," she said slowly and carefully, "is that you are terribly cynical and cynical, that you believe in nothing, and that you have no sincerity towards poor girls like us. " The smile on Mr. Seplin's face that had previously made him look naive was deliberately regarded by her as a cynical expression. "Secondly, you are self-willed, too self-willed. Once you want to do something, you will insist on going to the end and trample all obstacles under your feet." Docilely looking down at his tennis shoes, Mr. Seplin felt calmer and more spirited than before.Maybe he really has these problems and he doesn't know it. "Secondly, you are cruel and sarcastic." Mr. Seplin deliberately pretended to be indifferent and sarcastic, and he achieved his goal by giving the little witch a vicious look. "Also, you have completely disregarded the world of mortals. You no longer care about anything except boredom and world-weariness. You are now a person who has fully realized, and everything in the world is the object of your ridicule." Mr. Seplin felt in his heart that from now on he had nothing to do but laugh, laugh, and laugh. "The only saving grace in you is that you are somewhat generous. But even that you have tried to kill, but you have not. Yes," concluded the fair girl, "these are Your faults are cruel, cynical, and mean, though you are somewhat generous." The beautiful girl, refusing all invitations to her, left the verandah of the hotel and drifted away. Later that evening the pretty girl's brother borrowed Mr. Seplin's tennis racket and his bicycle for a fortnight.Her father got a signed check from Mr. Seplin for two hundred dollars, and her uncle Zephas borrowed Mr. Sepling's bedroom candle and cut a piece with his razor. Tobacco.Sepulin felt extremely gratified to get to know this family.