The Princess Galva A Romance

Excerpt

CHAPTER I

TOO OLD AT FORTY

The waning light of an October evening shone on the reflectors outside the windows of the basement counting-house, and the clerk at the corner desk could barely discern that the clock on the green painted dusty wall pointed to a quarter to six.

In fifteen minutes Edward Povey's twenty-two years of devoted service in the interests of Messrs. Kyser, Schultz & Company would come to an end, and the desk in the corner to which he had been promoted fifteen years ago would by the immutable law of evolution pass into the possession of his junior. Edward noticed this junior now and the glances which that young man cast at the scratched and ink-stained slab of mahogany that was to constitute his kingdom of the morrow. Edward wondered dully whether the young man was as full of hope as he himself had been. Perhaps he was waiting to be married even as he, Edward, had waited fifteen years ago. In those days the era of the Young Man had not been so pronounced as it is to-day, and it had been death that had removed his predecessor.

Even now he could remember the chastened sorrow with which he mounted the high stool of his desire. He had propped open the desk and collected together the belongings of the deceased clerk, and posted them with a little note of sympathy to his widow. Some had seemed too trivial to send, and of these a few still remained, a battered soap-box, a small square of unframed looking-glass, its red back scratched and scored. These, together with the great ebony ruler, had now outlasted his own reign and would pass to the new-comer.

And now the desk was propped open again, and it was his own belongings that he was collecting into a heap. The well-known odour of the wood came to his nostrils and he sighed a little. From shadowy and dusty corners he got together the little trifles that had been part and parcel of his life and arranged them in a neat pile beside him.

"If there's anything I can do for you——" began the junior, brushing his hair in front of a little mirror and settling his purple tie nervously.

"No, Joynings; nothing, I thank you. I'm leaving you old Brown's looking-glass and soap-box—they're fixtures, and go with the position."

The junior tittered a little at this and pulled down the front of his fancy waistcoat, lit a cigarette, and took a pair of roller-skates from the drawer of his desk. He came over and held out his hand.

"Right, then I'll be popping along—good luck, old man, and all that. You'll drop into something soon. If I hear of anything——"

"Oh, I'll be all right," said Edward Povey.

There is always a certain fascination in change and elation in abnormal conditions, even if those conditions constitute a misfortune. Edward Povey was surprised at his inner feelings as he left the portals of Messrs. Kyser, Schultz & Company's offices. In his own mind he knew that he ought to be feeling depressed; but the fact remained that he was feeling nothing of the kind, indeed he felt happier than he had done for the past twenty-two years, except perhaps on that one evening fifteen years ago....