Page:The Works of H G Wells Volume 1.pdf/266

Rh of her. The Vicar rose to his feet with an inarticulate cry.

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" drunk!" said Mr. Rathbone Slater, breaking a terrific silence. "That's the matter with him."

Mrs. Jehoram laughed hysterically.

The Vicar stood up, motionless, staring. "Oh! I forgot to explain servants to him!" said the Vicar to himself in a swift outbreak of remorse. "I thought he did understand servants."

"Really, Mr. Hillyer!" said Lady Hammergallow, evidently exercising enormous self-control and speaking in panting spasms. "Really, Mr. Hillyer! Your genius is too terrible. I must, I really must, ask you to take him home."

So to the dialogue in the corridor of alarmed maid-servant and well-meaning (but shockingly gauche) Angel—appears the Vicar, his botryoidal little face crimson, gaunt despair in his eyes, and his necktie under his left ear.

"Come," he said—struggling with emotion. "Come away.&hellip; I&hellip; I am disgraced for ever."

And the Angel stared for a second at him and obeyed meekly, perceiving himself in the presence of unknown but evidently terrible forces.

In the informal indignation meeting that followed, Lady Hammergallow took the (informal) chair. "I feel humiliated," she said. "The Vicar assured me he was an exquisite player. I never imagined&hellip;"

"He was drunk," said Mr. Rathbone Slater. "You could tell it from the way he fumbled with his tea."

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