pgw.uneasymoney-第10部分

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t　it　makes　the　party　three。　And　of　all　the　infernal　things　a　party　of　three　is　the　ghastliest。'
　Having　delivered　himself　of　this　undeniable　truth　the　stranger　slid　a　little　farther　into　his　chair　and　paused。　'Look　here；　what　are　you　doing　to…night？'　he　said。
　'I　was　thinking　of　going　to　bed。'
　'Going　to　bed！'　The　stranger's　voice　was　shocked；　as　if　he　had　heard　blasphemy。　'Going　to　bed　at　half…past　ten　in　New　York！　My　dear　chap；　what　you　want　is　a　bit　of　supper。　Why　don't　you　e　along？'
　Amiability　was；　perhaps；　the　leading　quality　of　Lord　Dawlish's　character。　He　did　not　want　to　have　to　dress　and　go　out　to　supper；　but　there　was　something　almost　pleading　in　the　eyes　that　looked　at　him　between　the　sharply…pointed　knees。
　'It's　awfully　good　of　you'　He　hesitated。
　'Not　a　bit；　I　wish　you　would。　You　would　be　a　life…saver。'
　Bill　felt　that　he　was　in　for　it。　He　got　up。
　'You　will？'　said　the　other。　'Good　boy！　You　go　and　get　into　some　clothes　and　e　along。　I'm　sorry；　what　did　you　say　your　name　was？'
　'Chalmers。'
　'Mine's　BoydNutbe　Boyd。'
　'Boyd！'　cried　Bill。
　Nutty　took　his　astonishment；　which　was　too　great　to　be　concealed；　as　a　pliment。　He　chuckled。
　'I　thought　you　would　know　the　name　if　you　were　a　pal　of　Gates's。　I　expect　he's　always　talking　about　me。　You　see；　I　was　pretty　well　known　in　this　old　place　before　I　had　to　leave　it。'
　Bill　walked　down　the　long　passage　to　his　bedroom　with　no　trace　of　the　sleepiness　which　had　been　weighing　on　him　five　minutes　before。　He　was　galvanized　by　a　superstitious　thrill。　It　was　fate；　Elizabeth　Boyd's　brother　turning　up　like　this　and　making　friendly　overtures　right　on　top　of　that　letter　from　her。　This　astonishing　thing　could　not　have　been　better　arranged　if　he　had　planned　it　himself。　From　what　little　he　had　seen　of　Nutty　he　gathered　that　the　latter　was　not　hard　to　make　friends　with。　It　would　be　a　simple　task　to　cultivate　his　acquaintance。　And　having　done　so；　he　could　renew　negotiations　with　Elizabeth。　The　desire　to　rid　himself　of　half　the　legacy　had　bee　a　fixed　idea　with　Bill。　He　had　the　impression　that　he　could　not　really　feel　clean　again　until　he　had　made　matters　square　with　his　conscience　in　this　respect。　He　felt　that　he　was　probably　a　fool　to　take　that　view　of　the　thing；　but　that　was　the　way　he　was　built　and　there　was　no　getting　away　from　it。
　This　irruption　of　Nutty　Boyd　into　his　life　was　an　omen。　It　meant　that　all　was　not　yet　over。　He　was　conscious　of　a　mild　surprise　that　he　had　ever　intended　to　go　to　bed。　He　felt　now　as　if　he　never　wanted　to　go　to　bed　again。　He　felt　exhilarated。
　In　these　days　one　cannot　say　that　a　supper…party　is　actually　given　in　any　one　place。　Supping　in　New　York　has　bee　a　peripatetic　pastime。　The　supper…party　arranged　by　Nutty　Boyd　was　scheduled　to　start　at　Reigelheimer's　on　Forty…second　Street；　and　it　was　there　that　the　revellers　assembled。
　Nutty　and　Bill　had　been　there　a　few　minutes　when　Miss　Daisy　Leonard　arrived　with　her　friend。　And　from　that　moment　Bill　was　never　himself　again。
　The　Good　Sport　was；　so　to　speak；　an　outsize　in　Good　Sports。　She　loomed　up　behind　the　small　and　demure　Miss　Leonard　like　a　liner　towed　by　a　tug。　She　was　big；　blonde；　skittish；　and　exuberant；　she　wore　a　dress　like　the　sunset　of　a　fine　summer　evening；　and　she　effervesced　with　spacious　good　will　to　all　men。　She　was　one　of　those　girls　who　splash　into　public　places　like　stones　into　quiet　pools。　Her　form　was　large；　her　eyes　were　large；　her　teeth　were　large；　and　her　voice　was　large。　She　overwhelmed　Bill。　She　hit　his　astounded　consciousness　like　a　shell。　She　gave　him　a　buzzing　in　the　ears。　She　was　not　so　much　a　Good　Sport　as　some　kind　of　an　explosion。
　He　was　still　reeling　from　the　spiritual　impact　with　this　female　tidal　wave　when　he　became　aware；　as　one　who；　ing　out　of　a　swoon；　hears　voices　faintly；　that　he　was　being　addressed　by　Miss　Leonard。　To　turn　from　Miss　Leonard's　friend　to　Miss　Leonard　herself　was　like　hearing　the　falling　of　gentle　rain　after　a　thunderstorm。　For　a　moment　he　revelled　in　the　sense　of　being　soothed；　then；　as　he　realized　what　she　was　saying；　he　started　violently。　Miss　Leonard　was　looking　at　him　curiously。
　'I　beg　your　pardon？'　said　Bill。
　'I'm　sure　I've　met　you　before；　Mr　Chalmers。'
　'Erreally？'
　'But　I　can't　think　where。'
　'I'm　sure；'　said　the　Good　Sport；　languishingly；　like　a　sentimental　siege…gun；　'that　if　I　had　ever　met　Mr　Chalmers　before　I　shouldn't　have　forgotten　him。'
　'You're　English；　aren't　you？'　asked　Miss　Leonard。
　'Yes。'
　The　Good　Sport　said　she　was　crazy　about　Englishmen。
　'I　thought　so　from　your　voice。'
　The　Good　Sport　said　that　she　was　crazy　about　the　English　accent。
　'It　must　have　been　in　London　that　I　met　you。　I　was　in　the　revue　at　the　Alhambra　last　year。'
　'By　George；　I　wish　I　had　seen　you！'　interjected　the　infatuated　Nutty。
　The　Good　Sport　said　that　she　was　crazy　about　London。
　'I　seem　to　remember；'　went　on　Miss　Leonard；　'meeting　you　out　at　supper。　Do　you　know　a　man　named　Delaney　in　the　Coldstream　Guards？'
　Bill　would　have　liked　to　deny　all　knowledge　of　Delaney；　though　the　latter　was　one　of　his　best　friends；　but　his　natural　honesty　prevented　him。
　'I'm　sure　I　met　you　at　a　supper　he　gave　at　Oddy's　one　Friday　night。　We　all　went　on　to　Covent　Garden。　Don't　you　remember？'
　'Talking　of　supper；'　broke　in　Nutty；　earning　Bill's　hearty　gratitude　thereby；　'where's　the　dashed　head…waiter？　I　want　to　find　my　table。'
　He　surveyed　the　restaurant　with　a　melancholy　eye。
　'Everything　changed！'　He　spoke　sadly；　as　Ulysses　might　have　done　when　his　boat　put　in　at　Ithaca。　'Every　darned　thing　different　since　I　was　here　last。　New　waiter；　head…waiter　I　never　saw　before　in　my　life；　different…coloured　carpet'
　'Cheer　up；　Nutty；　old　thing！'　said　Miss　Leonard。　'You'll　feel　better　when　you've　had　something　to　eat。　I　hope　you　had　the　sense　to　tip　the　head…waiter；　or　there　won't　be　any　table。　Funny　how　these　places　go　up　and　down　in　New　York。　A　year　ago　the　whole　management　would　turn　out　and　kiss　you　if　you　looked　like　spending　a　couple　of　dollars　here。　Now　it　costs　the　earth　to　get　in　at　all。'
　'Why's　that？'　asked　Nutty。
　'Lady　Pauline　Wetherby；　of　course。　Didn't　you　know　this　was　where　she　danced？'
　'Never　heard　of　her；'　said　Nutty；　in　a　sort　of　ecstasy　of　wistful　gloom。　'That　will　show　you　how　long　I've　been　away。　Who　is　she？'
　Miss　Leonard　invoked　the　name　of　Mike。
　'Don't　you　ever　get　the　papers　in　your　village；　Nutty？'
　'I　never　read　the　papers。　I　don't　suppose　I've　read　a　paper　for　years。　I　can't　stand　'em。　Who　is　Lady　Pauline　Wetherby？'
　'She　does　Greek　dancesat　least；　I　suppose　they're　Greek。　They　all　are　nowadays；　unless　they're　Russian。　She's　an　English　peeress。'
　Miss　Leonard's　friend　said　she　was　crazy　about　these　picturesque　old　English　families；　and　they　went　in　to　supper。　
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　Looking　back　on　the　evening　later　and　reviewing　its　leading　features；　Lord　Dawlish　came　to　the　conclusion　that　he　never　pletely　recovered　from　the　first　shock　of　the　Good　Sport。　He　was　conscious　all　the　time　of　a　dream…like　feeling；　as　if　he　were　watching　himself　from　somewhere　outside　himself。　From　some　conning…tower　in　this　fourth　dimension　he　perceived　himself　eating　broiled　lobster　and　drinking　champagne　and　heard　himself　bearing　an　adequate　part　in　the　conversation；　but　his　movements　were　largely　automatic。
　Time　passed。　It　seemed　to　Lord　Dawlish；　watching　from　without；　that　things　were　livening　up。　He　seemed　to　perceive　a　quickening　of　the　_tempo_　of　the　revels；　an　added　abandon。　Nutty　was　getting　quite　bright。　He　had　the　air　of　one　who　recalls　the　good　old　days；　of　one　who　in　familiar　scenes　re…enacts　the　joys　of　his　vanished　youth。　The　chastened　melancholy　induced　by　many　months　of　fetching　of　pails　of　water；　of　scrubbing　floors　with　a　mop；　and　of　jumping　like　a　firecracker　to　avoid　excited　bees　had　been　purged　from　him　by　the　lights　and　the　music　and　the　wine。　He　was　telling　a　long　anecdote；　laughing　at　it；　throwing　a　crust　of　bread　at　an　adjacent　waiter；　and　refilling　his　glass　at　the　same　time。　It　is　not　easy　to　do　all　these　things　simultaneously；　and　the　fact　that　Nutty　did　them　with　notable　success　was　proof　that　he　was　picking　up。
　Miss　Daisy　Leonard　was　still　demure；　bat　as　she　had　just　slipped　a　piece　of　ice　down　the　back　of　Nutty's　neck　one　may　assume　that　she　was　feeling　at　her　ease　and　had　overe　any　diffidence　or　shyness　which　might　have　interfered　with　her　plete　enjoyment　of　the　festivities。　As　for　the　Good　Sport；　she　was　larger；　blonder；　and　more　exuberant　than　ever　and　she　was　addressing　someone　as　'Bill'。
　Perhaps　the　most　remarkable　phenomenon　of　the　evening；　as　it　advanced；　was　the　change　it　wrought　in　Lord　Dawlish's　attitude　toward　this　same　Good　Sport。　He　was　not　conscious　of　the　beginning　of　the　change；　he　awoke　to　the　realization　of　it　suddenly。　At　the　beginning　of　supper　his　views　on　her　had　been　definite　and　clear。　When　they　had　first　been　introduced　to　each　other　he　had　had　a　stunned　feeling　that　this　sort　of　thing　ought　not　to　be　allowed　at　large；　and　his　battered　brain　had　instinctively　recalled　that　line　of　Tennyson：　'The　curse　is　e　upon　me。'　But　now；　warmed　with　food　and　drink　and　smoking　an　excellent　cigar；　he　found　that　a　gentler；　more　charitable　mo