You're the finest example of suburban
innocence and original sin I've seen this last quarter of a century,
wherein I've kept the world--and you--from tottering to destruction." He
reached for one of my cigars.
Without a word, and annoyed at my own stupidity, I slowly divested myself
of the clothes of Greece; while Hungerford smoked on, humming to himself
occasionally a few bars of The Buccaneer's Bride, but evidently occupied
with something in his mind. At length he said: "Marmion, I said suburban
innocence and original sin, but you've a grip on the law of square and
compass too. I'll say that for you, old chap--and I hope you don't think
I'm a miserable prig."
Still I replied nothing, but offered him one of my best cigars, taking
the other one from him, and held the match while he lighted it--which,
between men, is sufficient evidence of good-feeling. He understood, and
continued: "Of course you'll keep your eye on Mrs. Falchion and Madras
to-night: if he is determined that they shall meet, and you have arranged
it. I'd like to know how it goes before you turn in, if you don't mind.
And, I say, Marmion, ask Miss Treherne to keep a dance for me--a
waltz--towards the close of the evening, will you? Excuse me, but she is
the thorough-bred of the ship.
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