Imagine my delight, upon entering, to see, sitting near one of the
windows, my newly made acquaintances of the steamer, the Travises of
Boston, Miss Travis looking more beautiful than ever and quite as
haughty, by whom I was invited to join them. I accepted with
alacrity, and was just about to partake of a particularly nice melon
when who should walk in but that vulgar little spectre, hat jauntily
placed on one side of his head, check-patterned trousers loud enough
to wake the dead, and a green plaid vest about his middle that would
be an indictable offence even on an American golf links.
"Thank Heaven they can't see the brute!" I muttered as he
approached.
"Hullo, old chappie!" he cried, slapping me on my back. "Introduce
me to your charming friends," and with this he gave a horrible low
-born smirk at Miss Travis, to whom, to my infinite sorrow, by some
accursed miracle, he appeared as plainly visible as he was to me.
"Really," said Mrs. Travis, turning coldly to me, "we--we can't, you
know--we--Come, Eleanor. We will leave this _gentleman_ with his
_friend_, and have our breakfast sent to our rooms.
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