Page:Love Insurance - Earl Biggers (1914).djvu/274

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AT ten o'clock that Saturday morning Lord Harrowby was engrossed in the ceremony of breakfast in his rooms. For the occasion he wore an orange and purple dressing-gown with a floral design no botanist could have sanctioned—the sort of dressing-gown that Arnold Bennett, had he seen it, would have made a leading character in a novel. He was cheerful, was Harrowby, and as he glanced through an old copy of the London Times he made strange noises in his throat, under the impression that he was humming a musical comedy chorus.

There was a knock, and Harrowby cried: "Come in." Mr. Minot, fresh as the morning and nowhere near so hot, entered.

"Feeling pretty satisfied with life, I'll wager," Minot suggested.