Grapes from thorns [antikvár]

GRAPES FROM THORNSCHAPTER IGeoffrey LAMBERT had felt sure that the blow was about to fall when he was summoned to the principal's office, and when he entered and was invited to be seated he was sure of it. It was, as he told his mother later, the same kind of consideration a fellow who is about to be executed receives when he is given an egg for his breakfast.To do "old Fieldhouse" justice, he really did look as if he was confronting a distasteful job, so Geoffrey inquired kindly about his rheumatism; but that wasn't the particular ache at the moment, and the boss said so."Sorry, Lambert," he went on. "I've something to say to you you won't like, and that I don't like having to say. You know we are joining the Syndicate, and that means that in future all the accountancy will be done at headquarters. The head of that department has decided that your services won't be needed. I argued the point, but it was no go. You know the sayingthat a syndicate has neither a body to be kicked, nor a soul to be saved. They seemed to know a good deal about you, Lambert, and I couldn't move them, so I have no option but to give you the three months' notice to leave that is required by our Agreement.""When you say they know a good deal about me," Geoffrey remarked, "I hope it isn't implied that they know anything wrong about me?"" Of course they do," the other replied coolly. " Nothing morally wrong. They know you've done your job well herevery well; but they also know that you have no push in you, no great enthusiasm for your job or for your firm, and that's all wrongjust about as wrong as