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Updated: June 14, 2025
And I was pretty. And everybody was nice to me. And I wish it were going to happen right over again to-night." "Whom did you dance with mostly?" "Anybody that asked me." "Dare say. How many new victims?" he demanded. "Don't be a silly Guardy. I'm not a man-eating tiger or tigress, or the Great American Puma or pumess. Don't you think 'pumess' is a nice lady-word, Guardy?"
"Over Harrington Surtaine?" "Over his newspaper." "Look here, Esmé! How serious is this Surtaine matter?" Dr. Elliot's tone had a distinct suggestion of concern. "For me? Not serious at all." "But for him?" "How can I tell? Isn't it likely to be serious for any of the unprotected young of your species when a Great American Pumess gets after him?" she queried demurely.
Esmé confessed to herself that Douglas was rather on her conscience, a fact which, in itself, marked some change of nature in the Great American Pumess. She decided that society was a bore. For refuge she turned to her interest in the slums, where the Reverend Norman Hale, for whom she had a healthy, honest respect and liking, was, so she learned, finding his hands rather more than full.
Here was the Great American Pumess at bay, and suddenly splendid in her attitude of protectiveness. In that moment, she had all but broken Hal's resolution. He rose and walked over to the window, to clear his thought of the overpowering appeal of her loveliness. "How can I " he began, coming back: but paused because she was holding out to him the proof.
That's the Reverend Norman Hale's club for working-girls, you know. We're going to give a play. And, as I'm on the Press Committee, it's quite proper for me to go to the newspapers and get things printed." "Humph!" grunted Dr. Elliot. "Well: good hunting Pumess." After the girl had gone, he sat thinking.
Is it, oh, is it, the Great American Pumess that I have the honor to address?" She made him a sweeping bow. "In a good cause." "About which I shall doubtless hear to-morrow?" "Don't I always confess my good actions?" "At what hour does the victim's dying shriek rend the quivering air?" "Mr. Surtaine is due here at half past eight." "Humph! Young Surtaine, eh?
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