THE MODEL MILLIONAIRE who is the speaker? where was he at the time -answer
Answers
Answer:
Unless one is wealthy there is no use in being a charming fellow. Romance is the
privilege of the rich, not the profession of the unemployed. The poor should be practical
and prosaic. It is better to have a permanent income than to be fascinating. These are
the great truths of modern life which Hughie Erskine never realized. Poor Hughie!
Intellectually, we must admit, he was not of much importance. He never said a brilliant
or even an ill-natured thing in his life. But then he was wonderfully good-looking, with
his crisp brown hair, his clear-cut profile, and his grey eyes. He was as popular with men
as he was with women, and he had every accomplishment except that of making money.
His father had bequeathed him his cavalry sword, and a History of the Peninsular War in
fifteen volumes. Hughie hung the first over his looking glass, put the second on a shelf
between Ruff’s Guide and Bailey’s Magazine, and lived on two hundred a year that an old
aunt allowed him. He had tried everything. He had gone on the Stock Exchange for
six months; but what was a butterfly to do among bulls and bears? He had been a
tea merchant for a little longer, but had soon tired of pekoe and souchong. . . .
Ultimately he became nothing, a delightful, ineffectual young man with a perfect profile
and no profession.
To make matters worse, he was in love. The girl he loved was Laura Merton, the
daughter of a retired Colonel who had lost his temper and his digestion in India, and had
never found either of them again. Laura adored him, and he was ready to kiss her
shoe-strings. They were the handsomest couple in London, and had not a penny-piece
between them. The Colonel was very fond of Hughie, but would not hear of any
engagement.
“Come to me, my boy, when you have got ten thousand pounds of your own, and we
will see about it,” he used to say; and Hughie looked very glum on those days, and had
to go to Laura for consolation.
One morning, as he was on his way to Holland Park, where the Mertons lived, he
dropped in to see a great friend of his, Alan Trevor. Trevor was a painter. Indeed, few
people escape that nowadays. But he was also an artist, and artists are rather rare.
Personally he was a strange rough fellow, with a freckled face and a red ragged beard.
However, when he took up the brush he was a real master, and his pictures we
Answer:
- Trevorssss is the speaker