"But I was to end like this," she answered, licking an imaginary plate
with her tongue.

I gave her a shilling (to get rid of her), and returned to the club
disgusted.


Later in the evening I had to go to the club library for a book, and
while William was looking in vain for it (I had forgotten the title) I
said to him:

"By the way, William, Mr. Myddleton Finch is to tell the committee
that he was mistaken in the charge he brought against you, so you will
doubtless be restored to the dining-room to-morrow."

The two members were still in their chairs, probably sleeping lightly;
yet he had the effrontery to thank me.

"Don't thank me," I said, blushing at the imputation. "Remember your
place, William!"

"But Mr. Myddleton Finch knew I swore," he insisted.

"A gentleman," I replied, stiffly, "cannot remember for twenty-four
hours what a waiter has said to him."

"No, sir; but--"

To stop him I had to say: "And, ah, William, your wife is a little
better. She has eaten the tapioca--all of it."