arl sternly, "I care not for the man's riches. How much has he?"
"Fifteen million two hundred and fifty thousand dollars," answered Gwendoline. Lord Oxhead leaned his head against the mantelpiece. His mind was in a whirl. He was trying to calculate the yearly interest on fifteen and a quarter million dollars at four and a half per cent reduced to pounds, shillings, and pence. It was bootless. His brain, trained by long years of high living and plain thinking, had become too subtle, too refined an instrument for arithmetic...
* * * * *
At this moment the door opened and Edwin Einstein stood before the earl. Gwendoline never forgot what happened. Through her life the picture of it haunted her--her lover upright at the door, his fine frank gaze fixed inquiringly on the diamond pin in her father's necktie, and he, her father, raising from the mantelpiece a face of agonized amazement.
"You! You!" he gasped. For a moment he stood to his full height, swaying and groping in the air, then f
A goodly bit of droll writing but the reader need not fear being too often disturbed by involuntary episodes of riotous chortling.
Some good essays, some weak, a few excellent as I see it.
Stephen Leacock certainly is the funniest of all humour writers, beating even Jerome K. Jerome. The short stories in this book simply make you erupt in laughter; not because the actions of the characters are portrayed as funny, but because the author maintains such a serious tone while describing utterly ludicrous scenes.
Especially recommended are "Boarding House Geometry", "A Lesson in Fiction" and "How to Avoid Getting Married."