A Damsel in Distress
Page 21It was possibly the rose-coloured mist before his eyes that
prevented him from observing the hurried approach of a faultlessly
attired young man, aged about twenty-one, who during George's
preparations for ensuring privacy in his cab had been galloping in
pursuit in a resolute manner that suggested a well-dressed
bloodhound somewhat overfed and out of condition. Only when this
person stopped and began to pant within a few inches of his face
did he become aware of his existence.
"You, sir!" said the bloodhound, removing a gleaming silk hat,
mopping a pink forehead, and replacing the luminous superstructure
once more in position. "You, sir!"
which theory George was now a confirmed believer, there can be no
doubt that an exactly opposite phenomenon is of frequent
occurrence. After one look at some people even friendship is
impossible. Such a one, in George's opinion, was this gurgling
excrescence underneath the silk hat. He comprised in his single
person practically all the qualities which George disliked most. He
was, for a young man, extraordinarily obese. Already a second
edition of his chin had been published, and the perfectly-cut
morning coat which encased his upper section bulged out in an
opulent semi-circle. He wore a little moustache, which to George's
was red, his manner dictatorial, and he was touched in the wind.
Take him for all in all he looked like a bit of bad news.
George had been educated at Lawrenceville and Harvard, and had
subsequently had the privilege of mixing socially with many of New
York's most prominent theatrical managers; so he knew how to behave
himself. No Vere de Vere could have exhibited greater repose of
manner.
"And what," he inquired suavely, leaning a little further out of
the cab, "is eating you, Bill?"
A messenger boy, two shabby men engaged in non-essential
not of the essence to these confirmed sightseers. The shop girl was
late already, so it didn't matter if she was any later; the
messenger boy had nothing on hand except a message marked
"Important: Rush"; and as for the two shabby men, their only
immediate plans consisted of a vague intention of getting to some
public house and leaning against the wall; so George's time was
their time. One of the pair put his head on one side and said:
"What ho!"; the other picked up a cigar stub from the gutter and
began to smoke.
"A young lady just got into your cab," said the stout young man.