"I know," continued Gianapolis, proffering an excellent Egyptian
cigarette, "that you were cramped in your last situation--that you were
misunderstood"...
Soames, cigarette in hand, suppressed a start, and wondered if he were
turning pale. He selected a match with nervous care.
"The little matter of the silver spoons," continued Gianapolis, smiling
fraternally, "was perhaps an error of judgment. Although"--patting the
startled Soames upon the shoulder--"they were a legitimate perquisite;
I am not blaming you. But it takes so long to accumulate a really useful
balance in that petty way. Now"--he glanced cautiously about him--"I
can offer you a post under conditions which will place you above the
consideration of silver spoons!"
Soames, hastily finishing his cocktail, sought for words; but
Gianapolis, finishing his own, blandly ordered two more, and, tapping
Soames upon the knee, continued:
"Then that matter of the petty cash, and those trifling irregularities
in the wine-bill, you remember?--when you were with Colonel Hewett in
Nice?"...
Soames gripped the counter hard, staring at the newly arrived cocktail
as though it were hypnotizing him.
"These little matters," added Gianapolis, appreciatively sipping from
his own glass, "which would weigh heavily against your other references,
in the event of their being mentioned to any prospective employer".
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