You have no reason
to complain of my treatment to you. Amy Ffolliott, the girl you are to
win, is a prize for any man to be thankful for, and cannot be equalled
for beauty--provided the story is illustrated by the right artist. I do
not understand why you should try to spoil everything. I had thought you
were a gentleman."
"What it is you are objecting to, old man?" asked Van Sweller, in a
surprised tone.
"To your dining at ---- [5]," I answered. "The pleasure would be
yours, no doubt, but the responsibility would fall upon me. You intend
deliberately to make me out a tout for a restaurant. Where you dine
to-night has not the slightest connection with the thread of our story.
You know very well that the plot requires that you be in front of the
Alhambra Opera House at 11:30 where you are to rescue Miss Ffolliott a
second time as the fire engine crashes into her cab. Until that time
your movements are immaterial to the reader. Why can't you dine out
of sight somewhere, as many a hero does, instead of insisting upon an
inapposite and vulgar exhibition of yourself?"
[Footnote 5: See advertising column, "Where to Dine Well,"
in the daily newspapers.
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