THE ANATOMY OF FASHION
9
vulgar in its wake—for ever chased, like a dog with a tin can attached, by the horror of its own tail."
Thus my uncle. He had said a few of his things. It is possible his trick of talking like a disarticulated essay had something to do with his social discomfort. But anyhow he seemed all the better for the release.
"Talking of tails, George," he said, "reminds me. I noticed the men at the Fitz-Brilliants' had their coats cut—well, I should say, just a half inch shorter here than this of mine. Your man is not up to date. I must get the thing altered to-morrow."
