Red Money - Fergus Hume (warren buffett book recommendations TXT) 📗

Whenever You Have A Mind To." Chapter 2 (In The Wood) Pg 18

"There's No Time Like The Present," Said Miss Greeby,  Accepting The

Offer With Alacrity. "Come Along,  Old Boy." Then,  When They Stepped Out

Of The Cottage Garden On To The Lawns,  She Asked Pointedly,  "What Is Her

Name?"

 

"Chaldea."

 

"Nonsense. That Is The Name Of The Country."

 

"I Never Denied That,  My Dear Girl. But Chaldea Was Born In The Country

Whence She Takes Her Name. Down Mesopotamia Way,  I Believe. These

Gypsies Wander Far And Wide,  You Know. She's Very Pretty,  And Has The

Temper Of The Foul Fiend Himself. Only Kara Can Keep Her In Order."

 

"Who Is Kara?"

 

"A Servian Gypsy Who Plays The Fiddle Like An Angel. He's A

Crooked-Backed,  Black-Faced,  Hairy Ape Of A Dwarf,  But Highly Popular On

Account Of His Music. Also,  He's Crazy About Chaldea,  And Loves Her To

Distraction."

 

"Does She Love Him?" Miss Greeby Asked In Her Direct Fashion.

 

"No," Replied Lambert,  Coloring Under His Tan,  And Closed His Lips

Firmly. He Was A Very Presentable Figure Of A Man,  As He Walked Beside

The Unusually Tall Woman. His Face Was Undeniably Handsome In A Fair

Saxon Fashion,  And His Eyes Were As Blue As Those Of Miss Greeby

Herself,  While His Complexion Was Much More Delicate. In Fact,  She

Considered That It Was Much Too Good A Complexion For One Of The Male

Sex,  But Admitted Inwardly That Its Possessor Was Anything But

Effeminate,  When He Had Such A Heavy Jaw,  Such A Firm Chin,  And Such Set

Lips. Lambert,  Indeed,  At First Sight Did Indeed Look So Amiable,  As To

Appear For The Moment Quite Weak; But Danger Always Stiffened Him Into A

Dangerous Adversary,  And His Face When Aroused Was Most Unpleasantly

Fierce. He Walked With A Military Swing,  His Shoulders Well Set Back And

His Head Crested Like That Of A Striking Serpent. A Rough And Warlike

Life Would Have Brought Out His Best Points Of Endurance,  Capability To

Plan And Strike Quickly,  And Iron Decision; But The Want Of Opportunity

And The Enervating Influences Of Civilized Existence,  Made Him A Man Of

Possibilities. When Time,  And Place,  And Chance Offered He Could Act The

Hero With The Best; But Lacking These Things He Remained Innocuous Like

Gunpowder Which Has No Spark To Fire It.

 

Thinking Of These Things,  Miss Greeby Abandoned The Subject Of Chaldea,

And Of Her Possible Love For Lambert,  And Exclaimed Impulsively,  "Why

Don't You Chuck Civilization And Strike The Out-Trail?"

 

Chapter 2 (In The Wood) Pg 19

"Why Should I?" He Asked,  Unmoved,  And Rather Surprised By The Change Of

The Subject. "I'm Quite Comfortable Here."

 

"Too Comfortable," She Retorted With Emphasis. "This Loafing Life Of

Just-Enough-To-Live-On Doesn't Give You A Chance To Play The Man. Go Out

And Fight And Colonize And Prove Your Qualities."

 

Lambert's Color Rose Again,  And His Eyes Sparkled. "I Would If The

Chance--"

 

"Ah,  Bah,  Hercules And Omphale!" Interrupted His Companion.

 

"What Do You Mean?"

 

"Never Mind," Retorted Miss Greeby,  Who Guessed That He Knew What She

Meant Very Well. His Quick Flush Showed Her How He Resented This

Classical Allusion To Agnes Pine. "You'd Carry Her Off If You Were A

Man."

 

"Chaldea?" Asked Lambert,  Wilfully Misunderstanding Her Meaning.

 

"If You Like. Only Don't Try To Carry Her Off At Night. Garvington Says

He Will Shoot Any Burglar Who Comes Along After Dark."

 

"I Never Knew Garvington Had Anything To Do With Chaldea."

 

"Neither Did I. Oh,  I Think You Know Very Well What I Mean."

 

"Perhaps I Do," Said The Young Man With An Angry Shrug,  For Really Her

Interference With His Affairs Seemed To Be Quite Unjustifiable. "But I

Am Not Going To Bring A Woman I Respect Into The Divorce Court."

 

"Respect? Love,  You Mean To Say."

 

Lambert Stopped,  And Faced Her Squarely. "I Don't Wish To Quarrel With

You,  Clara,  As We Are Very Old Friends. But I Warn You That I Do Possess

A Temper,  And If You Wish To See It,  You Are Going The Best Way To Get

What You Evidently Want. Now,  Hold Your Tongue And Talk Of Something

Else. Here Is Chaldea."

 

"Watching For You," Muttered Miss Greeby,  As The Slight Figure Of The

Gypsy Girl Was Seen Advancing Swiftly. "Ha!" And She Snorted

Suspiciously.

 

"Rye!" Cried Chaldea,  Dancing Toward The Artist. "Sarishan Rye."

 

Miss Greeby Didn't Understand Romany,  But The Look In The Girl's Eyes

Was Enough To Reveal The Truth. If Lambert Did Not Love His Beautiful

Model,  It Was Perfectly Plain That The Beautiful Model Loved Lambert.

 

"O Baro Duvel Atch' Pa Leste!" Said Chaldea,  And Clapped Her Slim Hands.

 

Chapter 3 (An Unexpected Recognition) Pg 20

"I Wish You Wouldn't Speak The Calo Jib To Me,  Chaldea," Said Lambert,

Smiling On The Beautiful Eager Face. "You Know I Don't Understand It."

 

"Nor I," Put In Miss Greeby In Her Manly Tones. "What Does Oh Baro Devil,

And All The Rest Of It Mean?"

 

"The Great God Be With You," Translated Chaldea Swiftly,  "And Duvel Is

Not Devil As You Gorgios Call It."

 

"Only The Difference Of A Letter," Replied The Gentile Lady

Good-Humoredly. "Show Us Round Your Camp,  My Good Girl."

 

The Mere Fact That The Speaker Was In Lambert's Company,  Let Alone The

Offensively Patronizing Tone In Which She Spoke,  Was Enough To Rouse The

Gypsy Girl's Naturally Hot Temper. She Retreated And Swayed Like A Cat

Making Ready To Spring,  While Her Black Eyes Snapped Fire In A Most

Unpleasant Manner.

 

But Miss Greeby Was Not To Be Frightened By Withering Glances,  And

Merely Laughed Aloud,  Showing Her White Teeth. Her Rough Merriment And

Masculine Looks Showed Chaldea That,  As A Rival,  She Was Not To Be

Feared,  So The Angry Expression On The Dark Face Changed To A Wheedling

Smile.

 

"Avali! Avali! The Gorgios Lady Wants Her Fortune Told."

 

For The Sake Of Diplomacy Miss Greeby Nodded And Fished In Her Pocket.

"I'll Give You Half A Crown To Tell It."

 

"Not Me--Not Me,  Dear Lady. Mother Cockleshell Is Our Great Witch."

 

"Take Me To Her Then," Replied The Other,  And Rapidly Gathered Into Her

Brain All She Could Of Chaldea's Appearance.

 

Lambert Had Painted A Very True Picture Of The Girl,  Although To A

Certain Extent He Had Idealized Her Reckless Beauty. Chaldea's Looks Had

Been Damaged And Roughened By Wind And Rain,  By Long Tramps,  And By

Glaring Sunshine. Yet She Was Superlatively Handsome With Her Warm And

Swarthy Skin,  Under Which The Scarlet Blood Circled Freely. To An Oval

Face,  A Slightly Hooked Nose And Two Vermilion Lips,  Rather Full,  She

Added The Glossy Black Eyes Of The True Romany,  Peaked At The Corners.

Her Jetty Hair Descended Smoothly From Under A Red Handkerchief Down To

Chapter 3 (An Unexpected Recognition) Pg 21

Her Shoulders,  And There,  At The Tips,  Became Tangled And Curling. Her

Figure Was Magnificent,  And She Swayed And Swung From The Hips With An

Easy Grace,  Which Reminded The Onlookers Of A Panther's Lithe Movements.

And There Was A Good Deal Of The Dangerous Beast-Of-Prey Beauty About

Chaldea,  Which Was Enhanced By Her Picturesque Dress. This Was Ragged

And Patched With All Kinds Of Colored Cloths Subdued To Mellow Tints By

Wear And Weather. Also She Jingled With Coins And Beads And Barbaric

Trinkets Of All Kinds. Her Hands Were Perfectly Formed,  And So Doubtless

Were Her Feet,  Although These Last Were Hidden By Heavy Laced-Up Boots.

On The Whole,  She Was An Extremely Picturesque Figure,  Quite Comforting

To The Artistic Eye Amidst The Drab Sameness Of Latterday Civilization.

 

"All The Same,  I Suspect She Is A Sleeping Volcano," Whispered Miss

Greeby In Her Companion's Ear As They Followed The Girl Through The Camp.

 

"Scarcely Sleeping," Answered Lambert In The Same Tone. "She Explodes On

The Slightest Provocation,  And Not Without Damaging Results."

 

"Well,  You Ought To Know. But If You Play With Volcanic Fire You'll Burn

More Than Your Clever Fingers."

 

"Pooh! The Girl Is Only A Model."

 

"Ha! Not Much Of The Lay Figure About Her,  Anyway."

 

Lambert,  According To His Custom,  Shrugged His Shoulders And Did Not

Seek To Explain Further. If Miss Greeby Chose To Turn Her Fancies Into

Facts,  She Was At Liberty To Do So. Besides,  Her Attention Was Luckily

Attracted By The Vivid Life Of The Vagrants Which Hummed And Bustled

Everywhere. The Tribe Was A Comparatively Large One,  And--As Miss Greeby

Learned Later--Consisted Of Lees,  Loves,  Bucklands,  Hernes,  And Others,

All Mixed Up Together In One Gypsy Stew. The Assemblage Embraced Many

Clans,  And Not Only Were There Pure Gypsies,  But Even Many Diddikai,  Or

Half-Bloods,  To Be Seen. Perhaps The Gradually Diminishing Romany Clans

Found It Better To Band Together For Mutual Benefit Than To Remain

Isolated Units. But The Camp Certainly Contained Many Elements,  And

These,  Acting Co-Operatively,  Formed A Large And Somewhat Reckless

Community,  Which Justified Garvington's Alarm. A Raid In The Night By

One Or Two,  Or Three,  Or More Of These Lean,  Wiry,  Dangerous-Looking

Outcasts Was Not To Be Despised. But It Must Be Admitted That,  In A

General Way,  Law And Order Prevailed In The Encampment.

 

There Were Many Caravans,  Painted In Gay Colors And Hung Round With

Various Goods,  Such As Brushes And Brooms,  Goat-Skin Rugs,  And Much

Tinware,  Together With Baskets Of All Sorts And Sizes. The Horses,  Which

Drew These Rainbow-Hued Vehicles,  Were Pasturing On The Outskirts Of The

Camp,  Hobbled For The Most Part. Interspersed Among The Travelling Homes

Stood Tents Great And Small,  Wherein The Genuine Romany Had Their Abode,

But The Autumn Weather Was So Fine That Most Of The Inmates Preferred To

Sleep In The Moonshine. Of Course,  There Were Plenty Of Dogs Quarrelling

Over Bones Near Various Fires,  Or Sleeping With One Eye Open In Odd