And may I wish you a happy Christmas, sir,” the porter said. “It’s not for two days yet,” Simon muttered. The porter looked as if he was about to apologize. Simon quickly added, “and a happy Christmas to you as well. Of course. Thank you. Send round a brandy, if you please?” Feeling even more churlish, Simon walked to the club’s cardroom. Smoke hung in the air, too much tobacco plus an ancient fireplace that refused to draw properly. The furnishings in this room were scratched and water marked, though clean, except he could see that one of the deer heads decorating the wall had dusty antlers. Many of the stuffed animal heads had sprigs of evergreens perched on them like sloppy hats. No doubt a few drunken, younger members had managed that. He belonged to two clubs, though he rarely visited this one because Simon had no desire to gamble or drink too much—usually. Tonight he hoped a few rounds of cards would push him out of the haze of angry self-pity. He might not have many talents, but he was good at cards.
What do You think about Simon And The Christmas Spirit?
