夜雨聆风Ah shure, your Honour, best holiday I’ve ever had in my life!”
‘“I’m glad of that,” I said, rather surprised at his enthusiasm.
‘“Ah yes, shure, it was a grand holiday! I shot my brother.”
‘“You shot your brother!” I exclaimed.
‘“Ah yes, indade. It’s years now that I’ve been wanting to do it. Andthere I was on a roof in Dublin and who should I see coming down thestreet but my brother and I there with a rifle in my hand. A lovely shot itwas, though I say it myself. Picked him off as clean as a bird. Ah, it was afoine moment, that, and I’ll never forget it!”’
Boyd Carrington told a story well, with exaggerated dramatic emphasis,and we all laughed and felt easier. When he got up and strolled off, sayinghe must get a bath before dinner, Norton voiced our feeling by saying withenthusiasm: ‘What a splendid chap he is!’
I agreed and Luttrell said: ‘Yes, yes, a good fellow.’
‘Always been a success everywhere, so I understand,’ said Norton.
‘Everything he’s turned his hand to has succeeded. Clear-headed, knowshis own mind – essentially a man of action. The true successful man.’
Luttrell said slowly: ‘Some men are like that. Everything they turn theirhand to succeeds. They can’t go wrong. Some people – have all the luck.’
Norton gave a quick shake of the head. ‘No, no, sir. Not luck.’ He quotedwith meaning: ‘Not in our stars, dear Brutus – but in ourselves.’