"Eight guns are going to shoot partridges here on the 15th of October, and Augustus will be very pleased if you will make the ninth," I wrote. Could anything be more bête? "Please wire reply, and believe me, yours sincerely—" I hesitated again. Must I sign myself "Ambrosine de Calincourt Gurrage"? The strangest reluctance came over me.
It has always been a disagreeable moment when I have had to write
"Gurrage," but never so disagreeable as now.
"A. de C.G.," I began. No, initials would not do—"urrage," I added, and the distance between the "G" and the "u" showed, I am afraid, that there was something unnatural about my signature.
"No one would accept such a stupid invitation as that," I said to myself, hopefully, as I folded the sheet and put it in the envelope. But by ten o'clock next day a telegram was handed to me:
Very pleased to come on 15th. Many thanks.—ANTONY THORNHIRST.
So he will see the stuffed bears, and the negro figures, and the Tottenham Court Road Louis XV. drawing-rooms, after all, whether I wish it or no!
Whether I wish it or no!
Augustus was delighted—not so much at the acceptance of this guest, but his own wonderful prehension.
"There! I told you he'd jump at it," he said.
* * * * *