“And since you heard that I had taken the Legitimate.”
“Well, yes, even after that masterpiece of astuteness. But I would never think that you’d be fool enough to throw away this chance.”
“Chance—chance of what?”
“Of getting among decent people. I told you that my sister has nothing but decent people when there’s a shoot—there’s no Coming Man in anything among the house-party. Yes, it’s sure to be comfortable. It’s the very thing for you.”
“Is it? I’m not so certain about it. The people there are pretty sure to allude in a friendly spirit to my red hair.”
“Well, yes, I think you may depend upon that. That means that you’ll get on so well among them that they will take an interest in your personality. If you get on particularly well with them they may even allude to the simplicity of your mug. If they do that, you may be certain that you are a great social success.”
Archie mused.
It was in this musing spirit that he took in a contemplative way a lump of sugar out of the sugar bowl, turned it over between his fingers as though it was something altogether new to him. Then he threw the lump up to the ceiling, his face became one mouth, and the sugar disappeared.
“I think I’ll go,” he said, as he crunched the lump. “Yes, I’ll be hanged if I don’t go.”
“That’s more than probable,” said Harold.