Читать книгу The Meadows of the Moon - James Hilton - Страница 12

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The battle took place the following day, but it did not proceed according to plan—certainly not according to Michael’s plan. The day was Sunday, and so John was able to ask Michael into his study after breakfast and talk to him at leisure. The books, of course, had disappeared from the glass case.

John was very calm and polite. He had a magnificent air of reasonableness. His attitude seemed always to say: “Come, now, be a good fellow and listen to my point of view....” He began by assuring Michael that he had no desire to cause trouble, but that fifty pounds surplus expenditure over the allowance for a single term was rather a serious matter. He had, he explained, been trying to introduce some sort of costing system into the household finances; he allowed each person so much a month, after inquiry into needs, and if this sum were exceeded in any individual instance, the whole of the arrangements became disorganized. An equally serious matter was the sort of spending that had led to Michael’s excess. All the books, he thought, were rather unnecessary, “luxuries, at a time when it would be better if we could manage to do without luxuries.” And also, “I happen to know that some of the books are very richly bound——”

Here Michael sprang a mine. “Of course you happen to know. You wrote to my scout to send them to you. A dirty, rotten trick, and you needn’t think you’ll be able to explain it away!”

John was surprised, but not perturbed. He never was perturbed. “As I was saying, Michael, the books are very richly bound. They are also—and this is rather important from your point of view—worth nothing like the sums you paid for them. I had them independently valued in London. I should advise you to change your bookseller.”

“I’m damned if I do!” was Michael’s hot retort. “I’m not everlastingly thinking of pounds and profits and percentages! I’ve got used to dealing with old Driver, even if he does charge a few shillings more than somebody else, and I shall go on dealing with him!”

This, to John, was worse than revolt; it was heresy. “Your attitude, Michael, seems to me so unbusiness-like that I shan’t attempt to argue about it. All I will say is this: that if you want to remain at Oxford for another year and have another try for your degree you must give me your word that in future you will keep within your allowance. If you really insist on mingling business with sentiment, do so by all means, but at your own expense.”

“And you’ll pay Driver’s bill for last term, I suppose?”

“Most decidedly not. I am arranging with him now to take back the books at the purchase price less ten per cent.”

That was the final spark to the tinder. “The devil you are!” Michael cried, banging the table and striding to the door. “I’ve had enough of this. Go to hell and take your blasted ten per cent with you! That’s my answer, and the only one you’ll get!”

He rushed upstairs to Fran’s room and found her busy with her notes; by the time he reached her he was nearly in tears.