My word! I believe you're funking! You look absurdly
rotten like it, you know."
"Toothache, right across here," muttered Bean. "Have to put it off."
"But that's not done, old top; really it's not done, you know.
It ... it ... one doesn't do it at all, you know."
"Never?" asked Bean, brightening a little with alarm.
"Jolly well never," insisted the waster; "not for anything a
dentist-fellow could manage. Come now!"
Bean was listless once more, deaf, unseeing.
"Righto," said the waster. "Bachelor dinner last night ... yes?"
The situation had become intelligible to him. He found the bathroom, and
from it came the sound of running water. He had the air of a Master of
Revels.
"Into it--only thing to do!"
He led Bean to the brink of the icy pool and skilfully flayed him of the
flowered gown. He was thorough, the waster. He'd known chaps to pretend
to get in by making a great splashing with one hand, after they were
left alone. He overcame a few of the earlier exercises in jiu-jitsu and
committed Bean's form to the deep.
"Righto!" he exclaimed. "Does it every time. Shiver all you like. Good
for you! Now then--clothes! Clothes and things, Man! Oh, here they are
to be sure! How stupid of me! Feel better already, yes? Knew it. Studs
in shirt. My word! Studs! Studs! There! Let me tie it. Here! Look alive
man! She would have it. She must have known you. There!"
He had finished by clamping Bean's hat tightly about his head.
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