“Gloria—that is Miss Greene told me to pay it all in advance because if I didn’t I might get tired of it and back out. But I shan’t.”
From between Mr. Dunne’s hard-set lips issued a vowel-less monosyllable such as might be enunciated by a contemplative bulldog engaged in self-communion.
“Grmph!” said Mr. Dunne, which, Darcy decided, might mean much or little. “Friend o’ Miss Greene’s?” he inquired after a pause. “Yes.”
“Some lady!” said Mr. Dunne with an approach to enthusiasm which Darcy was never thereafter to experience from his repressive spirit, save only when he spoke of the “Big Feller.”
“Isn’t she wonderful!” acquiesced Darcy. Mr. Dunne rubbed his lower lip with a reminiscent and almost romantic gleam in his heavy-browed eyes, and the girl with difficulty suppressed a query as to whether that was the spot whereon Gloria had landed her triumphant left. Emerging from his reverie he issued his first direction. “Stannup, please.”
Darcy rose and stood, consciously loppish, while the trainer circumnavigated her twice.
“Grmph!” he grunted. “When yah wanna begin?”
“At once, please.”
“Gotta outfit?”
“No.”