thought a guerdon was some kind of a locket or lavalliere, perhaps even with diamond chips in it!
******
We now come to the party of the second part—a rather entertaining Friday Night party, from 8 till 10.
He was large and blond; rather blond than large, though he was large, too—too large. Tanned by the fierce tropical rays of the electric light, his honest, leather-beaten features and even portions of his face and visage showed him to be a strap-hanger of more than usual vigor—one who could step on a dozen feet at once, not including his own.
In full view of the audience, he was eating eight peanuts, with nothing up his sleeves and a silk hat. As he ate, he breathed; and as he breathed, he ate. Long practise had enabled him to do both at once. But he couldn’t do both and be surprised at the same time. He had to stop something, so he stopped breathing—for lo, Angela was before him, the love light in her ears.
“Here I be!” she cried. It was a grammatic moment.
