The disciple of Galen having called for “four stouts,” with which he and his party refreshed themselves, began to think what would be the most amusing topic of conversation with Pen, and hit upon that precise one which was most painful to our young gentleman.
“Jolly night at Vauxhall—wasn’t it?” he said, and winked in a very knowing way.
“I’m glad you liked it,” poor Pen said, groaning in spirit.
“I was dev’lish cut—uncommon—been dining with some chaps at Greenwich. That was a pretty bit of muslin hanging on your arm—who was she?” asked the fascinating student.
The question was too much for Arthur. “Have I asked you any questions about yourself, Mr. Huxter?” he said.
“I didn’t mean any offence—beg pardon—hang it, you cut up quite savage,” said Pen’s astonished interlocutor.
“Do you remember what took place between us the other night?” Pen asked, with gathering wrath. “You forget? Very probably. You were tipsy, as you observed just now, and very rude.”
“Hang it, sir, I asked your pardon,” Huxter said, looking red.
“You did certainly, and it was granted with all my heart. I am sure. But if you recollect, I begged that you would have the goodness to omit me from the list of your acquaintance for the future; and when we met in public, that you would not take the trouble to recognise me. Will you please to remember this, hereafter? and as the song is beginning, permit me to leave you to the unrestrained enjoyment of the music.”
He took his hat, and making a bow to the amazed Mr. Huxter left the table, as Huxter’s comrades, after a pause of wonder, set up such a roar of laughter at Huxter, as called for the intervention of the president of the room; who bawled out, “Silence, gentlemen; do have silence for the Body Snatcher!” which popular song began as Pen left the Back Kitchen. He flattered himself that he had commanded his temper perfectly. He rather wished that Huxter had been pugnacious. He would have liked to fight him or somebody. He went home. The day’s work, the dinner, the play, the whisky-and-water, the quarrel,—nothing soothed him. He slept no better than on the previous night.