English fiction -- 20th century; Short stories, English
The sour and wrath-sore Repton raised a protesting hand. His hat and
coat the maid had taken charge of; his pretty companion, not daring to
dally longer, had escaped into a drawing-room, with a smothered peal of
musical laughter.
“One moment, Major!” Mr. Repton drew his sandy eyebrows together and
glared upon the intruder. “This fellow is no friend of mine, he imagines
that I have offended him and has followed me here, demanding my name and
address like a confounded policeman!”
O’Hagan fixed his eyes upon Mr. Repton with quelling glance.
“You have likened me to a confounded policeman, sir. For which new
insult I shall pull your nose!” He turned to Major Trefusis, in that
hour the most surprised man from Land’s End to John O’Groats. “Mr.
Repton is your guest, Major, and of him I shall say nothing, except that
he has insulted me; deliberately, and several times. Our cause of
misunderstanding is no concern of yours, happily; but as a brother
officer and a gentleman you will support my claim to know where I may
call upon Mr. Repton to-morrow?”
The Major’s prominent, Cambridge eyes regarded the quivering Mr. Repton,
whose wrath yet was badly bottled, and escaped in divers sibilant
exclamations.
“Don’t you know, Repton”—he said; “I mean to say, Repton, the Captain
is within his rights, damme if he’s not! Why the blazes won’t you give
him your card—what?”
“Because I don’t choose to hand my card to any ruffian who cares to ask
for it, Major!”
Thus, Mr. Repton, making an effective exit by the same opening as the
lady.
Major Trefusis watched him go, and his red face grew redder, and his
wiry moustache more aggressively porcupinish. He snorted, cleared his
throat, and turned to O’Hagan—who anticipated him:
“I regret this incident exceedingly, Major. Pray accept my very sincere
apologies——”
“Not at all, Captain—not at all! You’re the O’Hagan who was with the
—th Irish Guards in South Africa—what? Heard of you! heard of you!
Delighted to meet you! It’s an ill wind—what?”
They shook hands warmly.
“If Repton wasn’t my guest—and my sister’s guest,” continued Major
Trefusis, “I’d say he was a puppy and that I’d always thought so! But
he’s in my house, and I can’t tell you what he doesn’t want to tell you
himself. You’re just in time for dinner, Captain!”
“But, Major——”
“Give me your coat, man——”
“Really, Major——!”
“Brothers in arms and all that, what! Damme! you’ve _got_ to stay!”
“I fear I am intruding——”
“Tut! tut! Come and have a peg. Just time! Were you in Kandahar
when——” etc., etc.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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