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Updated: May 8, 2025
Well, the luggage was taken down to the automobile that was waiting at the door, and Madame had driven off. That is all she knew. Lackaday strode over to the bureau and assailed the manager. Why had he not been informed of the departure of Madame? It apparently never entered the manager's polite head that Monsieur Patou was ignorant of Madame Patou's movements.
At last the hat descends on Petit Patou's head, the crook-handled stick falls on his arm, and he looks about in a dazed way for the cigar, and then he sees Prepimpin, who has caught it, swaggering off on his hind legs, the still lighted cigar in his mouth. "No," writes Lackaday, "it was a failure. Poor Prepimpin and I left Paris with our tails between our legs. We were to start a tour at Bordeaux.
Bakkus," I answered rather stiffly, "that Madame Patou's unfortunate impressions are in some way justified." It was a most unpleasant conversation. I very much resented discussing Lady Auriol with Horatio Bakkus. "Not at all," said he. "But Fate has thrown you and me into analogous positions we are both elderly men me as between Lackaday and Madame Patou, you as between Lady Auriol and Lackaday."
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