I saw his
lordship's face brighten.
"What ho!" he cried with the first cheerfulness he had exhibited, and
the Mixer, still vigorously pumping his hand, had replied, "Same
here!" with a vast smile of good nature. It occurred to me that they,
at least, were quite going to "get" each other, as Americans say.
"Come right in and set down in the parlour," she was saying at the
last. "I don't eat between meals like you English folks are always
doing, but I'll take a shot of hooch with you."
The Belknap-Jacksons stood back not a little distressed. They seemed
to publish that their guest was being torn from them.
"A shot of hooch!" observed his lordship "I dare say your shooting
over here is absolutely top-hole--keener sport than our popping at
driven birds. What, what!"
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
At a latish seven, when the Grill had become nicely filled with a
representative crowd, the Belknap-Jacksons arrived with his lordship.
The latter had not dressed and I was able to detect that
Belknap-Jackson, doubtless noting his guest's attire at the last
moment, had hastily changed back to a lounge-suit of his own. Also I
noted the absence of the Mixer and wondered how the host had contrived
to eliminate her. On this point he found an opportunity to enlighten
me before taking his seat.
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