For Freddie Swain had taken one of these toboggan slides down the hill
of fortune which sometimes happen to the most deserving. His father,
old General Orlando Swain, had, all his life, put up a pompous front
and was supposed to have inherited a fortune from somewhere; but, when
he died, this edifice was found to be all facade and no foundation,
and Freddie inherited nothing but debts. He had been expensively
educated for a career as an Ornament of Society, but he found that
career cut short, for Society suddenly ceased to find him ornamental.
I suppose there were too many marriageable daughters about!
I am bound to say that he took the blow well. Instead of attempting to
cling to the skirts of Society as a vendor of champagne or an
organiser of fetes champetres, he--to use his own words--decided to
cut the whole show.
Our firm had been named as the administrators of the Swain estate, and
when the storm was over and we were sitting among the ruins, Freddie
expressed the intention of going to work.
"What will you do?" Mr. Royce inquired. "Ever had any training in
making money?"
"No, only in spending it," retorted Freddie, easily.
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