Summary

Portrait of E. F. Benson E. F. Benson The Luck of the Vails: A Novel

Evie looked at him quickly.
"Have you a private joy, Lord Vail?" she asked. "Do tell me what it is. A thing that is private is always interesting."
Harry laughed.
"It is called the Luck," he said; "the Luck of the Vails."
"Are you really beginning to believe in that nonsense, Harry?" asked Lady Oxted.
"I have begun," said he.
"O Aunt Violet, how horrid you are!" cried Evie. "Do let Lord Vail tell me about it. It is private: I am dying to know."
"Shall I? I will make it short, then," said Harry, "for Lady Oxted's sake."
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of E. F. Benson E. F. Benson The Luck of the Vails: A Novel

Lady Oxted continued her diplomatic course.
"There is nothing so catching as superstition," she said, "and all the evening, since you told Evie and me about it, I have been wondering— Oh, it must be all nonsense!" she cried.
"You mean the Luck?" asked Harry. "Is Saul also among the prophets?"
"Yes, I mean the Luck. How does the nursery rhyme go? Fire and frost and rain, isn't it? Well, there they all were, and it is no use denying it."
"Not the slightest," said Harry.
"Certainly it is very strange. Harry, I don't like the Luck at all. It's uncanny.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of E. F. Benson E. F. Benson The Luck of the Vails: A Novel

Francis walked to the window, lit a cigarette, and threw it away, barely tasted.
"I wonder if Harry would like me to read to him," he said.
Geoffrey looked up with an arrested smile.
"I think I should leave him quite alone," he said. "I've just been up to him. He's as cross as a bear, and wouldn't speak to me. So I came away."
"But that is so unlike him!" said Mr. Francis. "He must be ill, he must be really ill."
Geoffrey began to understand Harry's feelings the day before.
"If I were you I wouldn't fuss either him or myself," he said. "People don't die of a cold in the head."
Source: Gutenberg

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