As she spoke she walked on, having Garstin on one side of her and Francis Braybrooke on the other.
“I’m going to have a good sweat in the Harrow Road.”
Braybrooke was disgusted. It was not that he really minded the word used to indicate the process which obtains in a Turkish Bath. No; it was Garstin’s blatant way of speaking it that offended his susceptibilities. The man was perpetually defying the decencies and delicacies which were as perfume in Braybrooke’s nostrils.
“The doctors say that it is an excellent thing to open the pores,” said Braybrooke discreetly.
Garstin cast a glance at him, as if he now saw him for the first time.
“Do you mean to tell us you believe in doctors?” he said.
“I do, in some doctors,” said Braybrooke. “There are charlatans in all professions unfortunately.”
“And some of them are R.A.‘s,” said Miss Van Tuyn. “By the way, Dick is going to paint me.”
“Really! How very splendid!” said Braybrooke, again with exaggerated cordiality. “With such a subject I’m sure—”
But here he was interrupted by Garstin, who said: