And certainly I wouldn't get any fun out of their taking
my money away from me. Besides, it doesn't entertain me.
I've no taste at all for it. I never look at a financial
paper now. I could no more interest myself in all that
stuff again than I could fly. That's the hell of it--to be
interested in anything."
"Go in for politics," the other suggested, with less warmth.
"Yes, I know," Thorpe commented, with a lingering tone.
"Perhaps I ought to think more about that. By the way,
what's Plowden doing? I've lost all track of him."
"Abroad somewhere, I fancy," Semple replied. His manner
exhibited a profound indifference. "When his mother
died he came into something--I don't know how much.
I don't think I've seen him since--and that must have been
six months and more ago."
"Yes. I heard about it at the time," the other said.
"It must be about that. His sister and brother--the
young Plowdens--they're coming to us at the end of
the week, I believe. You didn't hit it off particularly
with Plowden, eh?"
Semple emitted a contemptuous little laugh. "I did
not quarrel with him--if you mean that," he said,
"but even to please you, Thorpe, I couldn't bring myself
to put my back into the job of making money for him.
He was treated fairly--even generously, d'ye mind.
I should think, all told, he had some thirty thousand
pounds for his shares, and that's a hundred times as much
as I had a pleasure in seeing him get.
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