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'Good-morning, y'r Worship, echoed Butcher Trengrove. 'And what can I do for y'r Worship this fine morning? I was just allowin' to Mr Garraway here that, seein' the young dare-devils had left you a bird with their compliments, maybe you'd fancy a nice cut of rumpsteak to fill out a pie. 'This isn't exactly a laughing matter, Mr Trengrove.
'They do that in France. 'Here it would be a rumpsteak; but the sentiment is the same. At all events, the thing is as I told you, and I do not despair of Danesbury. 'For the letter, perhaps not; but he'll never ask you to Bruton Street, nor, if he did, could you accept. 'You are thinking of Lady Maude. 'I am. 'There would be no difficulty in that quarter.
Apparently she was not in the best of tempers this morning. A drover who attempted to jest with her was unmercifully snubbed, and so also was a master butcher from Marylebone, who as a rule was received with favour. But the lady was not in an ill temper with everybody certainly not with the stolid farmer-like man who was plodding his way through a rumpsteak washed down by small beer.
The only ones eating were unescorted women in pairs, robust English women with boyish faces, large teeth, ruddy apple cheeks, long hands and legs. They attacked, with genuine ardor, a rumpsteak pie, a warm meat dish cooked in mushroom sauce and covered with a crust, like a pie.
"Boo!" said English Chief; regarding his countryman with a look of contempt; "hims no onerstan' Eengleesh." "He understands how to eat a rumpsteak of venison, however," said Mackenzie, with a laugh, as Coppernose at that moment coolly appropriated a mass of half-roasted meat, and began to devour it. "You'd better follow his example, lads." The men were not slow to take this advice.
'I see the dining-room of my club, and myself seated at a little table by the window looking out on Piccadilly. And there's a spotless table-cloth, and all the accessories are spick and span. An obsequious menial brings me a rumpsteak, grilled to perfection, and so tender that it melts in the mouth. And he puts by my side a plate of crisp fried potatoes. Can't you smell them?
And, as the Bees packed away in the cellar are squeezed dry just as much as the others, the thought occurs to my mind that a rumpsteak with jam is not to everybody's liking and that the game stuffed with honey might well be a distasteful or even unwholesome dish for the Philanthus' larvae.
Having sent off the telegram, he presently ordered his dinner in the grill-room of a Ludgate Hill restaurant. "Yes, let's see your notion of a well-cooked rumpsteak. And I'll try some of the famous lager beer.... Oh, bottle or draught's all one to me;" and he snapped his fingers and laughed. "Now, sharp's the word, Mister waiter. I'm fairly famished."
Dreams all night. Why do they call that thing they gave me nutsteak? Nutarians. Fruitarians. To give you the idea you are eating rumpsteak. Absurd. Salty too. They cook in soda. Keep you sitting by the tap all night. Her stockings are loose over her ankles. I detest that: so tasteless. Those literary etherial people they are all. Dreamy, cloudy, symbolistic. Esthetes they are.
Yes, it was Crofton met him one evening bringing her a pound of rumpsteak. What is this she was? Barmaid in Jury's. Or the Moira, was it? They passed under the hugecloaked Liberator's form. Martin Cunningham nudged Mr Power. Of the tribe of Reuben, he said.
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