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Authors: C. P. Snow
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making an ass of himself. Albert Hart won’t hear of his giving up the Bar.’
‘It’s all unsettled, there’s nothing whatever to report,’ said Mr March quickly.
Mr March had been compelled to speak loudly, even for a March, to make her understand. His voice silenced everyone else, and the entire table heard Caroline’s next question.
‘Why is it unsettled? Why has he taken to bees in his bonnet just when he might be becoming some use in the world?’
‘The whole matter’s been exaggerated,’ said Mr March. ‘Albert always was given to premature discussion–’
‘What’s this? What’s this?’ said Philip.
‘I mentioned it to you. She’s not made a discovery. I mentioned that my son Charles was going through a period of not being entirely satisfied with his progress at the Bar. Nothing has been concealed.’
Katherine was looking at Charles with a frown of distress. ‘I expect he’s got over it now. You’re all serene, aren’t you, Charles?’ Philip asked down the table: his tone was dry but friendly.
‘I’m quite happy, Uncle Philip.’
‘You’re getting down to it properly now, aren’t you?’
‘The whole matter’s been grossly exaggerated,’ Mr March broke in, rapidly, as though signalling to Charles.
‘I expect I can take it that your father’s right,’ said Philip.
There was a pause.
‘I’m sorry. I should like to agree. But you’d find out sooner or later. It’s no use my pretending that I shall work at the Bar.’
‘What’s behind all this? They tell me you’ve made a good start. What’s the matter with you?’
Charles hesitated again.
‘You’ve got one nephew at the Bar, Uncle Philip.’ Charles looked at Robert. ‘Do you want all your nephews there too? Cutting each other’s throats–’
He seemed to be passing it off casually, his tone was light; but Caroline, who was watching his face without hearing the words, broke out: ‘I didn’t mean to turn you into a board meeting. This comes of being so abominably deaf. Leonard, do you remember the day when Hannah thought I was deafer than I am?’
We went back to our pudding. Katherine had flushed: Charles smiled at her, but did not speak. He stopped the footman from filling his glass again. Most of us, after the questions ceased, had been glad of another drink, including Francis, who had been putting down his wine unobtrusively but steadily since dinner began.
The table became noisier than at any time that evening; the interruption seemed over; Charles’ neighbours were laughing as he talked.
Florence Simon plucked at my sleeve. She was a woman of thirty, with abstracted brown eyes and a long sharp nose; all through dinner I had got nowhere with her; whatever I said, she had been vague and shy. Now her eyes were bright, she had thought of something to say.
‘I wish you’d been at the dinner last Friday. It was much more interesting then.’
‘Was it?’ I said.
‘Oh, we had some really good general conversation,’ said Florence Simon. She relapsed into silence, giving me a kind, judicious, and contented smile.
7: Two Kinds of Anger
By half past eleven Katherine could speak to Charles at last. She had just said some goodbyes, and only Francis and I were left with them in the drawing-room.
‘It was atrociously bad luck,’ she burst out.
‘I was glad it didn’t go on any longer,’ said Charles.
‘It must have been intolerable,’ she cried.
‘Well,’ said Charles, ‘I was just coming to the state when I could hear my own voice getting rougher.’
‘The family have never heard anyone put Uncle Philip off before.’
‘I thought he was perfectly good-tempered,’ Charles replied. He was being matter-of-fact in the face of the excitement. ‘He’s merely used to being told what he wants to know.’
‘He’s still talking to Mr L in his study. There are several of them still there, you know,’ she went on.
‘Didn’t you expect that?’ Charles smiled at her.
‘It’s
‘It’s all unsettled, there’s nothing whatever to report,’ said Mr March quickly.
Mr March had been compelled to speak loudly, even for a March, to make her understand. His voice silenced everyone else, and the entire table heard Caroline’s next question.
‘Why is it unsettled? Why has he taken to bees in his bonnet just when he might be becoming some use in the world?’
‘The whole matter’s been exaggerated,’ said Mr March. ‘Albert always was given to premature discussion–’
‘What’s this? What’s this?’ said Philip.
‘I mentioned it to you. She’s not made a discovery. I mentioned that my son Charles was going through a period of not being entirely satisfied with his progress at the Bar. Nothing has been concealed.’
Katherine was looking at Charles with a frown of distress. ‘I expect he’s got over it now. You’re all serene, aren’t you, Charles?’ Philip asked down the table: his tone was dry but friendly.
‘I’m quite happy, Uncle Philip.’
‘You’re getting down to it properly now, aren’t you?’
‘The whole matter’s been grossly exaggerated,’ Mr March broke in, rapidly, as though signalling to Charles.
‘I expect I can take it that your father’s right,’ said Philip.
There was a pause.
‘I’m sorry. I should like to agree. But you’d find out sooner or later. It’s no use my pretending that I shall work at the Bar.’
‘What’s behind all this? They tell me you’ve made a good start. What’s the matter with you?’
Charles hesitated again.
‘You’ve got one nephew at the Bar, Uncle Philip.’ Charles looked at Robert. ‘Do you want all your nephews there too? Cutting each other’s throats–’
He seemed to be passing it off casually, his tone was light; but Caroline, who was watching his face without hearing the words, broke out: ‘I didn’t mean to turn you into a board meeting. This comes of being so abominably deaf. Leonard, do you remember the day when Hannah thought I was deafer than I am?’
We went back to our pudding. Katherine had flushed: Charles smiled at her, but did not speak. He stopped the footman from filling his glass again. Most of us, after the questions ceased, had been glad of another drink, including Francis, who had been putting down his wine unobtrusively but steadily since dinner began.
The table became noisier than at any time that evening; the interruption seemed over; Charles’ neighbours were laughing as he talked.
Florence Simon plucked at my sleeve. She was a woman of thirty, with abstracted brown eyes and a long sharp nose; all through dinner I had got nowhere with her; whatever I said, she had been vague and shy. Now her eyes were bright, she had thought of something to say.
‘I wish you’d been at the dinner last Friday. It was much more interesting then.’
‘Was it?’ I said.
‘Oh, we had some really good general conversation,’ said Florence Simon. She relapsed into silence, giving me a kind, judicious, and contented smile.
7: Two Kinds of Anger
By half past eleven Katherine could speak to Charles at last. She had just said some goodbyes, and only Francis and I were left with them in the drawing-room.
‘It was atrociously bad luck,’ she burst out.
‘I was glad it didn’t go on any longer,’ said Charles.
‘It must have been intolerable,’ she cried.
‘Well,’ said Charles, ‘I was just coming to the state when I could hear my own voice getting rougher.’
‘The family have never heard anyone put Uncle Philip off before.’
‘I thought he was perfectly good-tempered,’ Charles replied. He was being matter-of-fact in the face of the excitement. ‘He’s merely used to being told what he wants to know.’
‘He’s still talking to Mr L in his study. There are several of them still there, you know,’ she went on.
‘Didn’t you expect that?’ Charles smiled at her.
‘It’s
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