"I fancied I read it in your looks. Your eyes went straight to her before ever I presented you."
"That proves no more than the merit of your description."
"Well, did I exaggerate? What think you?"
I drew a long breath. 'Twas the only description I could give. There were no words in the language equal to my thoughts.
"That will suffice," said Elmscott, and he turned away.
"One moment," I cried. "I need a service of you."
He burst out into a laugh.
"A thousand pounds to a guinea I know the service. 'Tis the address of my tailor you need. I saw you looking down at your clothes as though the wearing of them sullied you. Very well, one of my servants shall be with you in the morning with a complete list of my tradesmen." And he swung off in the direction of Piccadilly, laughing as he went, while I, filled with all sorts of romantical notions, walked back to my lodging. Though, indeed, to say that I walked, falls somewhat short of the truth; to speak by the book, I fairly scampered, and arrived breathless at my doorstep.
My servants had unpacked my baggage, and with a momentary pang of misgiving, I observed, lying on the table, my ill-omened copy of Horace.
"How comes this here?" I inquired sharply of Udal, taking the book in my hands.