What do you suppose," I went on, following up this line
of thought, "when you were untutored savages, was your substitute for
the Red Book?"
"Really," said this Englishman, "I haven't an idea. Perhaps as you have
suggested they had no ad_dresses_."
For a moment I felt quite depressed. "Did you think it was a conundrum?"
I asked. "You so often remind me of _Punch_, Mr. Mafferton."
I shouldn't have liked anyone to say that to me, but it seemed to have
quite a mollifying effect upon Mr. Mafferton. He smiled and pulled his
moustache in the way Englishmen always do, when endeavouring to absorb a
compliment.
"Dear old London," I went on reminiscently, "what a funny experience it
was!"
"To the Transatlantic mind," responded Mr. Mafferton stiffly, "one can
imagine it instructive."
"It was a revelation to mine," I said earnestly--"a revelation." Then,
remembering Mr. Mafferton's somewhat painful connection with the
revelation, I added carefully, "From a historic point of view. The
Tower, you know, and all that."
"Ah!" said Mr. Mafferton, with a distant eye upon the Campagna.
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