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The Lost World | Arthur Conan Doyle | |
He Is A Perfectly Impossible Person |
Page 3 of 5 |
"You were good enough to give me an appointment, sir," said I, humbly, producing his envelope. He took my letter from his desk and laid it out before him. "Oh, you are the young person who cannot understand plain English, are you? My general conclusions you are good enough to approve, as I understand?" "Entirely, sir--entirely!" I was very emphatic. "Dear me! That strengthens my position very much, does it not? Your age and appearance make your support doubly valuable. Well, at least you are better than that herd of swine in Vienna, whose gregarious grunt is, however, not more offensive than the isolated effort of the British hog." He glared at me as the present representative of the beast. "They seem to have behaved abominably," said I. "I assure you that I can fight my own battles, and that I have no possible need of your sympathy. Put me alone, sir, and with my back to the wall. G. E. C. is happiest then. Well, sir, let us do what we can to curtail this visit, which can hardly be agreeable to you, and is inexpressibly irksome to me. You had, as I have been led to believe, some comments to make upon the proposition which I advanced in my thesis." There was a brutal directness about his methods which made evasion difficult. I must still make play and wait for a better opening. It had seemed simple enough at a distance. Oh, my Irish wits, could they not help me now, when I needed help so sorely? He transfixed me with two sharp, steely eyes. "Come, come!" he rumbled. |
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