I'm not fit to shine her shoes. My dear old man, if you hadn't come and
told me this I never should have had the nerve to say a word to her.
"You're a corker. You've changed everything. You'll have to excuse me.
I must go to her. I can't wait a minute. I must rush and dress. Make
yourself at home here. Have you breakfasted? George! George! Say,
George, I've got to rush away. See that Mr. Bannister has everything he
wants. Get him some breakfast. Good-bye, old man." He gripped Bailey's
hand once more. "You're all right. Good-bye!"
He sprang for the staircase. George Pennicut turned to the speechless
Bailey.
"How would it be if I made you a nice cup of hot tea and a rasher of
'am, sir?" he inquired with a kindly smile.
Bailey eyed him glassily, then found speech.
"Go to hell!" he shouted. He strode to the door and shot into the
street, a seething volcano.
George, for his part, was startled, but polite.
"Yes, sir," he said. "Very good, sir," and withdrew.
Kirk, having reached the top of the stairs, had to check the wild rush
he was making for the bathroom in order not to collide with Steve, whom
he found waiting for him with outstretched hand and sympathetic
excitement writ large upon his face.
"Excuse _me_, squire," said Steve, "I've been playing the part of
Rubberneck Rupert in that little drama you've just been starring in.
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