“But why?” asked Lucile Davega.
“Yes, why?” came from other members. Some were a little excited.
Saunders Rook had not thought that far ahead, and the question confused him. He wanted very much to say, “Of course, I was only jesting.” No, he couldn’t do that. What a dolt they’d think him! Hastily, he ransacked his brain, cleared his throat to gain time, and declared:
“As a protest against the state of civilization in America.”
Again sheer inspiration. The state of civilization, up to that moment, had never worried him. He heard an interested ripple run round the room.
“But what do you consider the state of civilization to be?” asked Max Skye, bending toward him.
“Rotten,” said Saunders Rook, emphatically. Now that he was in for it, there was no sense in half-way expressions. “Rotten,” if not elegant, was strong, he decided.
He heard someone in a corner whisper:
“I say, who is that fellow?”
“Why, his name is Book or Cook or something,” was the whispered answer.