`I,' said the young man presently, `shall
not marry till I am seventy. I shall then marry some charming girl of
seventeen.' His aunt threw up her hands, exclaiming, `Oh, Tom, what a
perfectly horrible idea! Why, she isn't born yet!' `No,' said the
young man, `but I have my eye on her mother.' At this, Brett, who was
holding a light for his master's cigarette, turned away convulsively,
with a sudden dip of the head, and vanished from the room. His
breakdown touched and pleased all four beholders. But--was it a
genuine lapse? Or merely a feint to thrill us?--the feint of an
equilibrist so secure that he can pretend to lose his balance?
If I knew why Brett ceased to be butler in that household, I might be
in less doubt as to the true inwardness of him. I knew only that he
was gone. That was fully ten years ago. Since then I have had one
glimpse of him. This was on a summer night in London. I had gone out
late to visit some relatives and assure myself that they were safe and
sound; for Zeppelins had just passed over London for the first time.
Not so much horror as a very deep disgust was the atmosphere in the
populous quiet streets and squares. One square was less quiet than
others, because somebody was steadily whistling for a taxi. Anon I saw
the whistler silhouetted in the light cast out on a wide doorstep from
an open door, and I saw that he was Brett.
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