Читать книгу Dr. Wainwright's Patient. A Novel онлайн

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"I'm grinning at Billy's last night's adventures," replies George Wainwright. "He went to the Opera, and supped at Dubourg's."

"Horrible profligate! Alone?"

"So likely!" says Billy Dunlop. "All right, though; I mean, quite correct. Only Mick O'Dwyer with me."

"Mick O'Dwyer at the Opera!" says Paul in astonishment. "Why, he always swears he has no dress-clothes."

"No more he has; but I lent him some of mine--a second suit I keep for first nights of Jullien's Concerts, and other places where it is sure to be crammed and stivy. They fitted Mick stunningly, and he looked lovely in them; but he couldn't get my boots on, and he had to go in his own. There were lots of our fellows there, and they looked astonished to see Mick clothed and in his right mind; and at the back of the pit, just by the meat-screen there, you know, we met Lannigan, the M.P. for some Irish place, who's Mick's cousin. He didn't recognise him at first; then when Mick spoke he looked him carefully all over, and said: 'You're lovely, Mick!' Then his eyes fell on the boots; he turned to me with a face of horror, and muttered: 'Ah Billy, the brogues spoil the lot!'"