“Ah, but don’t you think it may break down just that one time you may happen to be in it?”
It was dreadful. The octopus-like tenacity of this bore was enough to paralyse the most mercurial. There fell a kind of languid despair upon the countenances of the group, and each looked helplessly at the other, as if to ascertain who was equal to the titanic task of warding off this terrible person. But, meeting the large eyes of his vis-à-vis, Phil at any rate found comfort. They would have something to laugh at between them, anyway.
“Here! I say—you! What are you doing?” called out Fordham, as at that moment a waiter came bustling up and began to shut the window.
“I shut de window, sir. Dere is one German gentleman at de oder end of de room say dat de window must be shut.”
“Oh, indeed! Well, then, give my compliments to the one German gentleman at the other end of the room and tell him the window won’t be shut. We’ll see him in Halifax first.”
The waiter paused a moment, then skipped away to deliver the message.
“Confound the fellow’s cheek!” cried Philip, indignantly. “Likely we are going to have our window bossed by some cadaverous brass-band player at the other end of the room.”
And one and all in the vicinity of the disputed window seconded, in varying terms, his protest.
Just then the waiter reappeared.
“Ver’ sorry, sir; but de German gentleman say it must be shut.”