"Ruggles, I'm horribly disappointed in you."
"Not more so than I myself, Madam," I replied.
"I am more disappointed," she continued, "because I felt that Cousin
Egbert had something in him----"
"Something in him, yes, Madam," I murmured sympathetically.
"And that you were the man to bring it out. I was quite hopeful after
you got him into those new clothes. I don't believe any one else could
have done it. And now it turns out that you have this weakness for
drink. Not only that, but you have a mania for insisting that other
men drink with you. Think of those two poor fellows trailing you over
Paris yesterday trying to save you from yourself."
"I shall never forget it, Madam," I said.
"Of course I don't believe that Jeff Tuttle always has to have it
forced on him. Jeff Tuttle is an Indian. But Cousin Egbert is
different. You tore him away from that art gallery where he was
improving his mind, and led him into places that must have been
disgusting to him. All he wanted was to study the world's masterpieces
in canvas and marble, yet you put a cabman's hat on him and made him
ride an antelope, or whatever the thing was. I can't think where you
got such ideas."
"I was not myself. I can only say that I seemed to be subject to an
attack.
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