“I can't think of troubling you, Mr. Savage. It won't be necessary for you to dodge around in this crowd to—”
“No trouble, I assure you, Lady Jane. Be glad to do it, in fact. Where shall we go first?” demanded he, considerably flurried.
“You go that way and I'll go this. We'll find her more easily,” said she, relentlessly, indicating the directions.
“But I don't know her,” he cried.
“How unfortunate! Would you know her if I were to describe her to you? Well, she's tall and very fair. She's also beautiful. She's quite stunning. I'm sure you'll know her.” She was starting away when he confronted her desperately.
“You'll have to go with me. I'll be arrested for addressing the wrong lady if I go alone, and you'll suffer the mortification of seeing them drag me off to jail.”
“The what? Why do you say mortification, Mr. Savage? I am quite sure—”
“O, come now, Jane—aw—Lady Jane—what do you mean by that? What's all the row about? What has happened?” he cried.
“I don't understand you, Mr. Savage.”
“Something's wrong, or you'd seem happier to see me, that's all,” he said, helplessly. “Lord, all my troubles come at once. Phil is half dead, perhaps all dead, by this time—and here you come along, adding misery instead of—”