Lord Foxbridge Butts In Read Online Free PDF

who lived a whole year on a hundred pounds’ allowance, “Why a hundred pounds?”
    “Why not?” he countered, leaning in to kiss me in a very persuasive manner, “I am well worth it.”
    He had a point, there: the last hour had been more fun than buying a lot of silverware, or losing on a racehorse, and I could certainly afford it. After letting him persuade me a little while longer, I got up and went into my bedroom, hoping that I actually had a hundred pounds in my note-case. I wasn’t used to carrying such sums at Oxford, but in London it was rather expected: you never knew when a chap might make a bet with you. I’d drawn two hundred the day before, but I’d spent a lot while I was out.
    Fortunately, I had just enough, with a fiver and various coins to spare. I folded the notes up in thirds and gave them to him as if they were just bits of paper, a letter or a love-poem. He thanked me very nicely (about fifteen pounds’ worth, at the going rate), then clambered out the window and across the courtyard the way he’d come. He waved and said something in Polish that sounded very sweet but could have meant ‘what a chump’ for all I knew, and disappeared into the darkness of his room.
    Andrzej had given me quite a lot to think about, and so I went into the bath to have a soak and ponder the oddities of our encounter.
    It was lovely having one’s own bathroom, and I found myself spending a good deal longer in that room than I had ever done before.  Though I’d had my own bathroom at Foxbridge Castle (merely because I was an only child and had the entire nursery wing all to myself), the plumbing wasn’t what you would call modern. It and the electricity had been modernised upon Pater’s receipt of Mummy’s hefty dowry when they married, but modern plumbing prior to the Great War wasn’t really very modern at all, requiring a great deal of coal to run the water heaters; Pater didn’t think his son and heir required a large allowance of coal for this purpose, so hot baths weren’t as plentiful as one might like.
    The bathing facilities at Eton don't bear mentioning, and Oxford hadn't been much better: a grim little chamber shoved in under the stairs, shared by all eight sets on the staircase, so a soak was a luxury one only got once a week or so; the rest of the time one had to make do with the washstand in one’s own bedroom or the showers at gymnasiums and Turkish baths.
    After three years of that , you can imagine how much I was enjoying having a whole tub to myself for as long as I liked, smoking cigarettes and reading the latest Punch , adding more hot water whenever it started cooling off. Utter heaven . But eventually I heard Pond moving about in the bedroom, and thought it must be about time to dress for lunch. I got out and dried off, gave my damp hair a good brisk brushing, and stepped into the bedroom to be strapped into my armor for the day.
    “I think I’d like to go to Savile Row after lunch, Pond,” I said a little later, when he was linking my cuffs for me, “I want some more Town-appropriate suits.”
    “Very good, my lord.”
    “I’d like you to come with me, if you’ve time.”
    “My lord?” he looked up sharply, scandalized.
    “I suppose it’s not the done thing,” I conceded, turning to the glass to examine my necktie, “But I value your judgment. You know so much more about clothes than I do; I only know about the fashions, but you know about fabric and workmanship and all that.”
    “If your lordship wishes it,” he was still disturbed, but seemed to at least be trying to come to grips with it as he slid my jacket over my arms, “However, my assistance cannot be of much necessity if your lordship goes to a reputable house. The quality will be certain.”
    “I suppose so,” I was disappointed, but could see the sense of what he said; besides, I would look a frightful ass towing my valet behind me like a nanny, “Perhaps you can steer me to the best tailor’s,