There was also a curious interview at a big hotel with a middle-aged, white-powdered woman, all covered with jewels and reeking of scent, who wanted a Companion. "I will be there at the time. What is the use of it? I do not wish to marry you. "Has no man ever kissed you?" "No. " "He then," continued the woollen-draper, "is no longer considered—" "How, Sir?" cried Thames, advancing, "what is the meaning of your reference to my name? Have you dared to insult this lady? If so—" "Insult her!" replied Kneebone, rising, and endeavouring to hide his embarrassment under a look of defiance. Her mouth was once more covered as they left the second floor guest saloon and headed for the back stairs. The Master listened, with becoming attention, to the narrative, and, at its conclusion, shook his head gravely, applied his thumb to the side of his nose, and, twirling his fingers significantly, winked at his phlegmatic companion. That’s where you go wrong.
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