"Very bad for our nerves, all this rush and hurry," said a fellow-
traveller; "give me the peace and quiet of the country."
Crefton mentally surrendered his share of the desired commodity.
A crowded, brilliantly over-lighted music-hall, where an exuberant
rendering of "1812" was being given by a strenuous orchestra, came
nearest to his ideal of a nerve sedative.
THE TALKING-OUT OF TARRINGTON
"Heavens!" exclaimed the aunt of Clovis, "here's some one I know
bearing down on us. I can't remember his name, but he lunched
with us once in Town. Tarrington--yes, that's it. He's heard of
the picnic I'm giving for the Princess, and he'll cling to me like
a lifebelt till I give him an invitation; then he'll ask if he may
bring all his wives and mothers and sisters with him. That's the
worst of these small watering-places; one can't escape from
anybody."
"I'll fight a rearguard action for you if you like to do a bolt
now," volunteered Clovis; "you've a clear ten yards start if you
don't lose time."
The aunt of Clovis responded gamely to the suggestion, and churned
away like a Nile steamer, with a long brown ripple of Pekingese
spaniel trailing in her wake.
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