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by bofa xesjum

sitting in the mud, faraday watched the moon move slowly across the sky. he did not know anything about astronomy or the names of the stars or constellations, but he liked to look at them when he wanted to relax. after a while, grell, the butler, came out. i beg your pardon, sir, grell addressed faraday, but the gentlemen were wondering if you would be rejoining them any time soon. tell them i do not know when i will be rejoining them. very good, sir. after another while, grell came out again. beg your pardon again, sir, but mr harris says he will have to return to the city very shortly, and he would appreciate it if the matter of the ingoldsby fund, in particular, was cleared up before he had to leave. thank you, grell. realizing that faraday had no more to say, grell returned to the house. time passed. the moon drifted in the sky, along with some attendant clouds. grell came out for a third time. what is it now, grell? faraday asked him. mr jefferies says that he is leaving, sir, and he wished me to tell you that if the southeast asia market collapses, it will be on you. those were his words , sir. thank you, grell. tell me, grell, have you ever read lord lenderby’s memoirs, particularly related to his experiences in madagascar? no, sir, i am afraid i have not. have you ever read nick natter’s big book of jokes? no, sir, i have never read that either. give the gentlemen a message from me, grell. yes, sir. tell them - tell them - on second thought, i have no message. very good, sir. grell returned to the house. the lights dimmed in the drawing room behind faraday’s back, changing the pattern of the shadows across the mud he continued to sit in. dawn began to break. a bird flew out of the old elm tree.