Michael Arlen

“ Parbold the most beautiful thing that can happen to any man in this imperfect world. He had been trusted by a woman. . . .
The dark, long, low shape of the car was by the curb. A man, a tall shape of a man, stood beside the car, talking to the chauffeur, who was at the driving wheel. As Mr. Parbold closed the door of the house behind him, the tall shape of the man walked quickly away. ”

“ In future, Hebblethwaite, you will oblige me by keeping your mudguards more to yourself.” She turned on Mr. Parbold with a very grave smile. “Mr.—er——”
“Parbold,” he supplied.
“Mr. Parbold, you must come home with me and rest a little while. I insist. I am rather good at insisting. Please!”
Mr. Parbold blinked at her, tried to catch and remember forever the lilt of her sad sweetness, and found himself beside her in the dark tonneau of the car. It was a very smooth car.
“I do so hate running over people!” miserably said the lips of the hair that was more glorious than gold. ”

“ Parbold carried an overcoat over one arm and in one hand an umbrella, which was folded with ambition rather than accuracy. During the winter he wore the overcoat, but the umbrella was no further advanced toward that symmetrical elegance which has made umbrellas what they are.
Mr. Parbold was a childless widower; and though to be a childless widower is generally considered to be a lonely way of fife by students of that kind of thing, Mr. Parbold was not sensibly depressed by his lonely state.
Mr. Parbold was interested in many things, but the things he was most interested in were types. ”

“ Parbold entered Society.
THERE are, as is well known, many approved ways of entering Society, the chief being: frontward, backward, sideways, purse first. Mr. Parbold entered Society backward, one night as he was trotting across the Haymarket and looking about him. If he had been looking behind him he would never have entered Society, for he would have seen the large motor-car, the right-side mudguard of which caught him sharply in the small of his back. Mr. Parbold bit the dust.
“Hey, there!” said the chauffeur angrily. “Messin' abaht all over the road!” said the chauffeur angrily. ”

“ She loves you. Lord Limehouse! And she begs your forgiveness——”
“But it's I who must beg her forgiveness!” cried the young man.
“Well, you can fight that out between you,” sighed Mr. Parbold. “Now be a good boy and go straight home. Lord Limehouse. Your lady awaits you.”
And the young man started up to the window and made a great shout to the chauffeur: “Home, home! Like lightning!”
THEN swiftly went the car, and the young man leant back and sighed. Round the broad curve of Berkeley Square swept the car, and stopped. Mr. Parbold said:
“Eh—thank you. Lord Limehouse. ”

“ Parbold's motto, and it is not at all a bad motto, really: although it may place a man who has followed it too carefully in a position wherein one of his eyes must automatically close in sharp reaction to a harder substance. ”

“ She sat in a chair that had a high oaken back; and light from a vase of chyroprase on a tall golden stand made a halo of graciousness about her. And the chinchilla coat fell in careless folds about her; she wore it as though it might be any sort of coat, which is of course the proper way to wear a chinchilla coat.
THE ginger beer and digestive biscuits came, and Mr. Parbold was glad of a chance to do something. He fussed about.
“Mr. Parbold!” call the lady softly. ”

“ The longest-living author of this work died in 1956, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 67 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works. ”