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"Trixy, what does she remind you of?" "Cleopatra," cried Warry Trowbridge, with an attempt to be gallant. "Eternal vigilance," said Mr. Brent, and they sat down amidst the laughter, Lily Dallam declaring that he was horrid, and Mrs. Chandos giving him a look of tender reproach. But he turned abruptly to Honora, who was on his other side. "Where did you drop down from, Mrs. Spence?" he inquired.
I showed him my photographs, and he graciously invited me to give him some. I nodded cheerfully to him in assent, rolled them all up again, and put them back in my box. He knew that I did not understand. We had tea together, and then he took his leave, "Warry Ching, ching!" being his parting words.
"What do you think of him?" he asked. "He's adorable," declared Honora. "Would you like to try him?" "Oh might I? Sometime?" "Why not to-day now?" he said. "I'll send him over to your house and have your saddle put on him." Before Honora could protest Mrs. Chandos came forward. "It's awfully sweet of you, Trixy, to offer to send me to Fanny's, but Warry says he will drive me over.
A young man almost a boy, too of twenty-three or twenty-four, his handsome face a white shadow, lay propped against the pillows, watching the door eagerly as they entered. "Good boy, Warry," he greeted the little fellow; "you've got me a lawyer," and the pale features lighted with a smile of such radiance as seemed incongruous in this gruesome place.
"A soldier on a motorcycle. Make the first turn you can." Warren whipped the little racer round one curve and then another. He was thinking deeply. Elinor commenced to cry. "Don't let them get me, Warry!" she begged. "You are all right, dear," he answered. Then to Ivan: "I have it. Didn't you say you knew that Princess what-is-her-name that owns this car?" "Yes, a little," said Ivan.
Warry, the Chinese adviser to the Burmese Government, is one of the ablest men who ever graduated from the Consular Staff in China; while Captain H. R. Davies, of the Staff Corps, who is on special duty in the Intelligence Department, is not only an exceptionally able officer, but is the most accomplished linguist of Upper Burma. These were the three representatives. I sold my pony in Bhamo.
"Erne 'n' me been doggin' a swamp where th' deadfall tangle was so thick we was so nigh stripped o' clothes we couldn't 'a gone t' camp if there'd been any women about. Drivin' toward where a runway crossed a neck 'tween two lakes, a neck so narrow two pike could scarce pass each other on it, there we'd sot Warry 't th' end o' th' neck.
Why, say, if he'd only knowed it thirty or forty years ago, Warry had th' chance to live 'n die with th' repute o' bein' th' greatest sport specialist that ever busted through the Quebec bush if he'd only jest kept to fishin'. But the hell o' it is, Warry's always had a fool idee in his head he can hunt, 'n' he can't, can't sort o' begin to hunt!
Brent threw back his head and laughed. "You haven't got it anyway, Warry," he cried. Mr. Trowbridge, who resembled a lean and greying Irish terrier, maintained that he had. "It's a pity you don't ride, Lula. I understand that that's one of the best preventives for gout. I bought a horse last week that would just suit you an ideal woman's horse. He's taken a couple of blue ribbons this summer."
"My experience with your sex," he declared enigmatically, "has not been a slight one." "Trixy!" interrupted Mrs. Chandos at this juncture, from his other side, "Warry Trowbridge won't tell me whether to sell my Consolidated Potteries stock." "Because he doesn't know," said Mr. Brent, laconically, and readdressed himself to Honora, who had, however, caught a glimpse of Mrs. Chandos' face.
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