Men and Wives by Ivy Compton-Burnett Read Free Book Online

Sir Percy?” said Gregory.
    â€œHe is a gentleman I always like to have a glimpse of, sir.”
    â€œDo you like to have a glimpse of his clothes?” said Gregory.
    â€œâ€™Manners makyth man,’ I believe, sir.”
    â€œHas Sir Percy any particular manners?” said Griselda.
    â€œIt is that point to which I was referring, miss,” said Buttermere.
    â€œWell, what do you think of the resurrection of my old suit?” said Godfrey, striding into the room. “Renovation I mean, of course, not resurrection. Do you think it doesme for ordinary nights? Your mother was for sending it to the charity sale, but I said I could do better with it than that. I am not much of a one for clothes for myself; and my new suit would only get to be the same if I took it for every evening; and there should I be with nothing for an occasion when people expect you to lead the way, to be of those conforming to a standard. Don’t gape and grin, Gregory. What do you think of it, Buttermere?”
    â€œHer ladyship has gone into the drawing-room, Sir Godfrey.”
    â€œOh yes, has she? Then we will go in. Don’t sound the gong for a minute, Buttermere. Hold back until we have got across the hall. Don’t hurry us into a nervous illness, I tell you. If her ladyship is in the drawing-room, we have to get in to her, haven’t we? Didn’t you say so yourself? Gregory, you little, unbelievable blackguard! That is a fit way to appear before ladies in the evening! I wonder Griselda can look at you; I can hardly look at you myself.”
    â€œWell, my three men and one girl,” said Harriet, who was standing with Matthew on the hearth. “My Grisel is looking very sweet to-night. Gregory, I think that is going a little far.”
    â€œBy taking no steps at all,” said Jermyn.
    â€œYes, so I told him, Harriet. I hope you will keep your eyes off him. I have just begged Griselda to. Gregory, I ask you not to let this occur again. It implies an attitude to your mother that you do not intend. Why does not Buttermere sound that gong?” Godfrey retraced his steps and raised his voice. “Buttermere, sound the gong at once.”
    â€œI understood you wished it delayed, Sir Godfrey.”
    â€œYou understood nothing of the sort. I told you to sound it when we were in the drawing-room. Do it this instant.”
    A subdued version of the usual summons gave the opposite quality to the master’s steps.
    â€œButtermere, sound that gong in the proper mannerimmediately. And don’t make that booming that will shatter the roof. Sound it as we always have it, or leave the house.”
    When a normal volume of sound had ensued, Godfrey followed his wife, settling his shoulders and resuming an easy expression.
    â€œWell, Harriet, so you have written your letter to Spong,” he said, as Buttermere pulled out his chair with an appearance of unusual interest. “I can tell that you have a little sense of accomplishment. And no wonder, I am sure. It does you good to have a little something to get through.”
    â€œMy dear Godfrey, one small thing cannot fill a human being’s horizon.”
    â€œYes, well, but we are all concerned about poor Spong. I am afraid you have tired yourself, my dear.”
    â€œI don’t know why. It is you who have put an unusual strain on yourself.”
    â€œOh, what? An unusual strain on myself! That is what you call it, when I take it upon myself to see that things are going right for you all! I am not sure it is not a strain. Oh, well, have it that way. I have put a strain on myself. I never do anything, do I? Well, I do then. Who keeps the peace, and adapts himself first to one mood and then to anotner, and let’s himself be passive or be active, or be taken up the wrong way or the right, just as it is all wanted? Who does it? I should like to ask. I don’t know who else would do it. I don’t indeed.”
    â€œWould