Why don't you wear a decent coat? It's idiotic!"
"Because my coat isn't decent. I don't want her to see me shabby. And I
like to pretend I'm rather a strong, dashing fellow who doesn't mind
things. Besides, look at yourself!"
"I'm different."
"You needn't rub it in." He was gay now with an expectation that bubbled
up in him like a fountain. He made as though to salute Robert solemnly
and then remembered and clutched at his wind-blown hair instead. "Oh, my
hat! Well, it will make Connie laugh like anything!" he said.
2
To be a habitue of Brown's was to prove yourself a person of some means
and solid discrimination. At Brown's you could get cuts from the joint,
a porter-house steak, apple tart, and a good boiled pudding as nowhere
else in the world. You went in through the swinging doors an ordinary
and fallible human being, and you came out feeling you had been fed on
the very stuff which made the Empire. You were slightly stupefied, but
you were also superbly, magnificently unbeatable.
Mr. Brown was an Englishman. But he did not glory in the fact. It was,
as he had explained to Robert one night, his kindly, serious face glowing
in the reflection from the grill, a tragedy.
"To be born an Englishman and a cook--it's like being born a bird without
wings. You can't soar--not however hard you try--not above roasts and
boils. Take vegetables. An Englishman natur'lly boils. And it's no
good going against nature.
Pages:
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130