MICHAEL

by E. F. Benson




CHAPTER I


Though there was nothing visibly graceful about Michael Comber, he
apparently had the art of giving gracefully. He had already told his
cousin Francis, who sat on the arm of the sofa by his table, that there
was no earthly excuse for his having run into debt; but now when the
moment came for giving, he wrote the cheque quickly and eagerly, as if
thoroughly enjoying it, and passed it over to him with a smile that was
extraordinarily pleasant.

"There you are, then, Francis," he said; "and I take it from you that
that will put you perfectly square again. You've got to write to me,
remember, in two days' time, saying that you have paid those bills. And
for the rest, I'm delighted that you told me about it. In fact, I should
have been rather hurt if you hadn't."

Francis apparently had the art of accepting gracefully, which is more
difficult than the feat which Michael had so successfully accomplished.

"Mike, you're a brick," he said. "But then you always are a brick.
Thanks awfully."