Mr. Brisher's Treasure

“You can’t be too careful who you marry,” said Mr. Brisher, and pulled thoughtfully with a fat-wristed hand at the lank moustache that hides his want of chin.

“That’s why—” I ventured.

“Yes,” said Mr. Brisher, with a solemn light in his bleary, blue-grey eyes, moving his head expressively and breathing alcohol intimately at me. “There’s lots as ‘ave ‘ad a try at me—many as I could name in this town—but none ‘ave done it—none.”

I surveyed the flushed countenance, the equatorial expansion, the masterly carelessness of his attire, and heaved a sigh to think that by reason of the unworthiness of women he must needs be the last of his race.

“I was a smart young chap when I was younger,” said Mr. Brisher. “I ‘ad my work cut out. But I was very careful—very. And I got through … “[...]

Herbert George Wells - Герберт Джордж Уэллс - هربرت جورج ويلز