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Wilson, Harry Leon, 1867-1939

"Ruggles of Red Gap"


"Of course, course!" replied his lordship. "Dashed good man, Ruggles!
Owe it all to him, what, what!"
I fancy in the cordial excitement of the moment he was quite sincere.
As to her ladyship, I am to this day unable to still a faint suspicion
that she was having me on. True, she owed it all to me. But I hadn't a
bit meant it and well she knew it. Subtle she was, I dare say, but
bore me no malice, though she was not above setting Belknap-Jackson
back a pace or two each time he moved up.
A final toast was drunk and my guests drifted out. Belknap-Jackson
again glared savagely at me as he went, but Mrs. Effie rather
outglared him. Even I should hardly have cared to face her at that
moment.
And I was still in a high state of muddle. It was all beyond me. Had
his lordship, I wondered, too seriously taken my careless words about
American equality? Of course I had meant them to apply only to those
stopping on in the States.
Cousin Egbert lingered to the last, rather with a troubled air of
wishing to consult me. When I at length came up with him he held the
journal before me, indicating lines in the article--"relict of an
Alaskan capitalist, now for some years one of Red Gap's social
favourites."
"Read that there," he commanded grimly.


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