"By the way, how is the dowager-duchess?" wound up the Infant.
"D—— the dowager-duchess!" I roared, losing the remains of my temper.
Jones grew radiant, and the Infant winked irritating approval of my natural touches. Such contempt for duchesses could only be bred of familiarity. At last I could contain myself no longer; I must either explode or have a fit. I sent Jones for cigarettes.
Directly the door closed those two men turned upon me.
"I say, old fellow," exclaimed Towers reproachfully, "isn't this just going it a little too far?"
"What in creation made you take these howling apartments?" asked the Infant. "Review time, too! They've been saving up these rooms, foreseeing there would be some tip-top swells crowded out of the fashionable hotels. Why, there's a cosy little crib next to ours I made sure you'd have."
"Well, I call this cool!" I gasped.
"So it is," said the Infant; "I admit that. It's the coolest room in the house. It'll be real jolly up here; and if you can stand the racket I'm sure I'm not the chap to grumble."
"You must have been doing beastly well, old man," Towers put in enviously; "to feed us like critics on chicken and champagne. I suppose they'll be opening new cemeteries down your way presently."
"Look here, my fine fellows," I said ferociously, "don't you forget that there's plenty of room still in Ryde Churchyard."