Alice Faraday
was one of those girls whose dream it is to be a ministering angel
to some chosen man, to be a good influence to him and raise him to
an appreciation of nobler things. Hitherto, Reggie's personality
had seemed to her agreeable, but negative. A positive vice like
over-indulgence in alcohol altered him completely. It gave him a
significance.
"I told him to get you a lemonade," said Reggie. "He seems to be
taking his time about it. Hi!"
George approached deferentially.
"Sir?"
"Where's that lemonade?"
"Lemonade, sir?"
"Didn't I ask you to bring this lady a glass of lemonade?"
"I did not understand you to do so, sir."
"But, Great Scott! What were we chatting about, then?"
"You were telling me a diverting story about an Irishman who landed
in New York looking for work, sir. You would like a glass of
lemonade, sir? Very good, sir."
Alice placed a hand gently on Reggie's arm.
"Don't you think you had better lie down for a little and rest, Mr.
Byng? I'm sure it would do you good."
The solicitous note in her voice made Reggie quiver like a jelly.
He had never known her speak like that before.
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