My, my. It’s been ages.

Good greetings, my boy! My, my. It’s been ages. Have we left you here long? Out here in the parlor? Good grief, what a fright. You’ll have to forgive me. And Horace, besides. It’s just such a tizzy with the tidying up. With the new marble slabs. Have you heard of this fad? “Distorted Columnar.” A punch and a half. They say that is rivals the old clay Bolivian. Well we’ve been knee deep in parties, the pasties, and pooh! All this rain! The cats have declared that they feel quite molested. Well never mind. There’s so much to tell.

The conference is off to a splendid inception. Horace has told you? A blossoming start. Tinctures and tannins, injections and salves. What winged victory might see if took one of these! What sights might she see. What wings might she wung! Ho ho! Nevermind. Let’s bring you right in. My babbling stream has nothing to tell. One must see. One must see! Come, come now, no haste to getting you started. How’s your ailment these days? No good. Well well well. That’s what we’re here for, of course, my dear handsome young man.

Jacko, come here. You simply must meet this young friend of ours. The son of old Carlisle. A genius he is. The boy, not the father. Now now, don’t demure. I know the old bastard, your father the banker. A good chap at Oxford but you know how it goes. Pragmatism and practicals, they weigh a man down. Your mother now, well. Without saying too much, we all wished those two well.

Jacko, where was I? The mind tends to kiting. Ah yes, you’re right. Our young Carlisle is the man of the hour. Arrived on a good night for sights. Haven’t you? Always a keen sensing of timing with Carlisles. Is that what makes your father such an excellent banker? The Carlisle knack? Let’s call it a calling. An omen. An inscription somewhere at the base of your spine. Come come sit by me. I’ll show you the evening. Tut tut no more questions. There just isn’t room. No questions in this house. All is in the making and all shall be revealed.

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