Mary made no effort to restrain
the smile caused by the costume of Mr. Griggs. Yet, there was no
violation of the canons of good taste, except in the aggregate.
From spats to hat, from walking coat to gloves, everything was
perfect of its kind. Only, there was an over-elaboration, so
that the ensemble was flamboyant. And the man's manners precisely
harmonized with his clothes, whereby the whole effect was
emphasized and rendered bizarre. Garson took one amazed look,
and then rocked with laughter.
Griggs regarded his former associate reproachfully for a moment,
and then grinned in frank sympathy.
"Really, Mr. Griggs, you quite overcome me," Mary said,
half-apologetically.
The visitor cast a self-satisfied glance over his garb.
"I think it's rather neat, myself." He had some reputation in
the under-world for his manner of dressing, and he regarded this
latest achievement as his masterpiece.
"Sure some duds!" Garson admitted, checking his merriment.
"From your costume," Mary suggested, "one might judge that this
is purely a social call.
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