"Fourteen and a half," said Fosdick.
"Fourteen and a half!—why don't you get a neck? You haven't got a plain white shirt, have you? Our English friend lent me this, but it's purple, and Mr. Ashton's socks are maroon, and this peacock blue tie is very unhappy."
"I think I can fit you out," said Fosdick.
"And if you had an extra pair of socks," Mallory pleaded,—"just one pair of unemotional socks."
"I'll show you my repertoire."
"All right, I'll see you later." Then he went up to Wellington, with much hesitance of manner. "By the way, Mr. Wellington, do you suppose Mrs. Wellington could lend Miss—Mrs.—could lend Marjorie some—some——"
Wellington waved him aside with magnificent scorn: "I am no longer in Mrs. Wellington's confidence."
"Oh, excuse me," said Mallory. He had noted that the Wellingtons occupied separate compartments, but for all he knew their reason was as romantic as his own.
CHAPTER XXIII
THROUGH A TUNNEL
Mrs. Jimmie Wellington, who had traveled much abroad and learned in England the habit of smoking in the corridors of expensive hotels, had acquired also the habit, as travelers do, of calling England freer than America. She determined to do her share toward the education of her native country, and chose, for her topic, tobacco as a feminine accomplishment.