Of a Meeting near Fulham
I had rumpadded that evening! In a twinkling I had the notion of that old rogue’s manœuvre, but I made no exclamation, holding back as sober as a judge. The newcomer bowed politely to her ladyship and Old Rowley, who, on his part, answering the congee with ceremony, addressed him gravely.
“I am so unfortunate as to pick a quarrel with this gentleman, who will, on his own request, explain your errand,” he says, looking at me without a sign.
T’other turns to me, with a little frown, for he was a staid pompous creature, and maybe did not fancy such escapades; and then his brows contracted, and he scowled very black at me.
“I think, Sir,” he says stiffly, “that I have a little business with this gentleman that must take precedence even of yours.”
“Indeed!” says Old Rowley, with an affable look of surprise; and then, seating himself comfortably, “Pray do not let me interrupt you then.”
“Sirrah,” says my Hector brusquely, “I see you recognise me.”
273
