The next four months I spent upon the continent of Africa, sketching, surveying, and drawing up specifications. Then I came home to be married.
At the very first dinner-party to which we were bidden on our return from our honeymoon I encountered The Freak.
I saw him first, so to speak. Covers had been laid, as they say in country newspapers, for twenty-two persons. My wife, through the operation of an inscrutable but inexorable law, had been reft from my side, and was now periodically visible through a maze of table decorations, entertaining her host with what I could not help regarding as the most unfeeling vivacity and cheerfulness. I began to take an inventory of the company. We had been a little late in arriving--to be precise, the last--and I had had no opportunity of observing my fellow-guests. My own partner was a Mrs. Botley-Markham, an old acquaintance of mine. She combined short sight and an astonishingly treacherous memory for names and faces with a rooted conviction that the one infallible sign of good breeding is never to forget a name or a face. ("A truly Royal attribute," she had once announced in my presence.) I was therefore agreeably surprised to find that she remembered not merely my face, but my name and métier. After putting me at my ease with a few kindly and encouraging remarks upon the subject of canals, she turned to her other neighbour.
"Dear Sir Arthur," I heard her say, "this is indeed a pleasant surprise!"
"Dear lady," replied a hearty voice, "the pleasure is entirely mine."
I leaned carelessly forward to inspect the menu, and shot a sidelong glance in the direction of Sir Arthur. I was right. It was The Freak, in his most acquiescent mood. I wondered what his surname was, and whether he knew it.
"We had such a teeny talk last time we met," continued Mrs. Botley-Markham. "Now we can chat as long as we please."
Heaving a gentle sigh of relief, Mrs. Botley-Markham's rightful dinner-partner helped himself to a double portion of the entrée and set to work.
The chat commenced forthwith.
"And how is Gipsy?" enquired Mrs. Botley-Markham.