"You thoughtful pressure, and accepting your urgent invite to dine here
before proceeding to the Zoological Gardens and thence to the butler's
pantry."
The Prophet tried not to groan while she emitted a pin and secured with
it a wandering plait of raven hair.
"You're sure, sir," said Mr. Sagittarius, in a deplorable voice, "that
the gentleman is convinced that I am really an American syndicate?"
The Prophet rang the bell. He could not trust himself to speak, and,
when he looked at Madame's large and determined eyes, he knew that to do
so would be useless.
Mr. Ferdinand appeared.
"Mr. Ferdinand," said the Prophet, "this lady and gentleman will join us
at dinner to-night."
"Yes, sir," said Mr. Ferdinand, casting a glance of outraged prudery
upon Mr. Sagittarius, who was attired in his usual morning costume,
including spats.
"What's the matter, Mr. Ferdinand?" asked the Prophet, following that
functionary's eyes. "Ha! He's not dressed!"
"No, sir!"
"Mr. Sagittarius," cried the Prophet, "you're not dressed!"
"Sir," cried that gentleman, "do you dare to accuse me of impropriety in
a frock coat?"
"No, no. But for dinner. You can't possibly dine like that!"
"I have dined like this, sir, for the last twenty years.
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