Following his glance, Fordham beheld a carroty-headed snobling fresh from the counter or the cutting-board, who, in all the exuberance of his hard-earned holiday and the enterprising spirit which had prompted him to enjoy the same among Alpine sublimities in preference to the more homely and raffish attractions of shrimp-producing Margate, was delivering himself on Church and State, the House of Peers and the Constitution in general, with a freedom which left nothing to be desired, for the edification of his appreciative neighbours—only they didn’t look appreciative. Philip contemplated this natural product of an age of progress and the Rights of Man with unconcealed disgust.
“Faugh! Are we going to be overrun with bounders of that description?” he growled.
“Later on we may drop across a sprinkling of the species,” said Fordham. “Even the Alps are no longer sacred against the invasion of the modern Hun.”
“Well, it’s no longer any fun sticking here, and I’m sick of it,” went on Phil.
“All right. Let’s adjourn to Zermatt or somewhere, and begin climbing. You want shaking up a bit.”
Chapter Fourteen.
Fordham Proves Accommodating.
“Dear me—how very disagreeable (sniff-sniff)—how exceedingly unpleasant this smoking is?”