Escapade
“Doyle was looking for a place to talk. He found one, a small parlor to the right. We slipped in there and he glanced quickly around the room and shut the door. We sat down opposite each other on a pair of love seats. His face had gone back to its normal pink.
“First off,” Doyle said, “I want to apologize again for the manner in which Sir David behaved. It was abominable.”
“You don’t need to apologize, Sir Arthur. It wasn’t your fault.” “But the man is English. He’s a baronet, Mr. Beaum...ont. For a so-called gentleman, I must tell you, it was an unforgivable display.”
“I’m not worried about it. You shouldn’t be, either.”
He leaned toward me, wincing slightly. “Whenever I’ve traveled in America, wherever I’ve gone in that remarkable country, I’ve received nothing but the kindliest and most gracious treatment from everyone I met. Virtually everyone. I want you to know that I feel personally embarrassed that this has happened today.”MoreLess
“First off,” Doyle said, “I want to apologize again for the manner in which Sir David behaved. It was abominable.”
“You don’t need to apologize, Sir Arthur. It wasn’t your fault.” “But the man is English. He’s a baronet, Mr. Beaum...ont. For a so-called gentleman, I must tell you, it was an unforgivable display.”
“I’m not worried about it. You shouldn’t be, either.”
He leaned toward me, wincing slightly. “Whenever I’ve traveled in America, wherever I’ve gone in that remarkable country, I’ve received nothing but the kindliest and most gracious treatment from everyone I met. Virtually everyone. I want you to know that I feel personally embarrassed that this has happened today.”MoreLess
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