WillKG

I was fortunate enough recently to acquire an invitation down to Sir Hepton’s lovely house in Derbyshire. He lives there in great comfort with his invalid wife, Lady Hepton, and their vast army of servants. I arrived at the house in my little four-wheeler and went up to my room to change for dinner. I came downstairs and greeted my hosts, Sir Hepton was a quiet man, with a small greying moustache and little piggy eyes, he had the look of a fit man who had somehow given up; his belly was rounded and he had a large double chin. He greeted me with an amiable smile and introduced his wife; Lady Hepton did not take the hand offered her, but

All his life Henry Marlow had had an almost morbid fascination with teeth. They seemed to occupy his mind constantly, his father had thought scorn upon this somewhat disturbing fixation; but his son, taking no heed of his father’s advice to enter the family firm, had plummeted recklessly into the profession of dentistry. Starting as a simple assistant he gradually worked his way up to the top, it took not long before he owned a little practice of his own, with a respectable amount of patients. He had married a nice girl, nothing remarkable mentally or physically; though she had quite excellent teeth. He usually went off to the office at

Mrs Turner knew her husband was a lady’s man but she thought nothing of it, she knew it was only a boyish foolishness on his part, and on the very few occasions where he had gone too far he would apologize to both the woman concerned and his wife immediately. Mrs Turner always seemed to forgive him these little slips and as nothing serious had ever resulted she was quite content to let him have his little moments of childish enthusiasm. They lived in a large house in the country, Mr Turner worked in shares and had amassed a fortune over the years. In this way a little obsession he had with comfort and luxury could be indulged to the f

After father died we had to move from Norway; mother hated Norway, with its bleak valleys, black mountain lakes and cold winters. I protested for all I was worth, but I couldn’t stop her, no one could stop her after father was dead. I recollect trying to hinder her on every step of the packing and getting ready, however all my protestations were to no avail. We drove out of the little village we had lived so comfortably in through my growing up. Past all the places I would always remember but thought I would never see again. Our village was several kilometres from any other place; it was in a deep valley, with high, black pine-tree cover