Robert W Chambers

The Girl Philippa Robert W Chambers

Somebody at Warner's elbow spoke to him in French. He turned his head leisurely: a well-dressedyoung fellow, evidently an Englishman, was striving to maintain a place beside him in the noisy, market day crowd."Pardon, Monsieur, are you English?""American," replied Warner briefly, and without enthusiasm."My name is Halkett," said the other, with a quick smile. "I'm English, and I'm in trouble. Could you spare me a moment?"To Warner the man did not look the typical British dead-beat, nor had he any of the earmarksand mannerisms of the Continental beach-comber. Yet he was, probably, some species or other ofthat wearisome and itinerant genus."I'm listening," said the young American resignedly. "Continue your story.""There's such a row going on here-couldn't we find a quieter place?""I can hear you perfectly well, I tell you!"Halkett said: "If I try to talk to you here I'll be overheard, and that won't do. I'm very sorry to inconvenienceyou, but really I'm in a fix. What a noise these people are making! Do you mind coming somewhereelse?""Say what you desire to say here," returned Warner bluntly. "And perhaps it might save time ifyou begin with the last chapter; I think I can guess the rest of the story