Читать книгу Dodsworth - Sinclair Lewis - Страница 38

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For lunch he invited Hurd—Mr. A. B. Hurd, manager of the London agency of the Revelation Motor Company, an American who had lived in England for six years.

Fran was fairly amiable about meeting Mr. Hurd, for the hotel management had given her the suite which she had demanded, with a vast sitting-room in blue and gold.

“I was cross, last evening,” she said to Sam. “I felt kind of lonely. I was naughty, and you were so sweet. I’ll be good now.”

But she couldn’t help being a little over-courteous to Hurd when he came in.

Mr. Hurd was a round-faced, horn-spectacled, heavy-voiced man who believed that he had become so English in manner and speech that no one could possibly take him for an American, and who, if he lived in England for fifty years, would never be taken for anything save an American. He looked so like every fourth man to be found at the Zenith Athletic dub that traveling Middlewesterners grew homesick just at sight of him, and the homesicker when they heard his good, meaty, uninflected Iowa voice. He was proud of being able to say that the “goods vans with the motors were being shunted,” though if he was in a hurry he was likely to observe that the “goods vans with the autos were by God being switched.”

His former awe of Sam and of the elegance of Fran was lost now in his superiority as one who certainly did know his England and who could help these untraveled friends.

He bounded into their suite, shook hands, and crowed:

“Well, by Jove, d’you know you could’ve doggone near knocked me down with a feather when I found you folks were in town! I say, if you’d just told us you were coming, we’d’ve been down to the depot with the town brass band! By golly, d’you know, Chief, I’m almost sorry we’re going in with the U.A.C. It’s always been a pleasure to have a straight-shooter like you for boss, and all of us hope that you’re going with the U.A.C. yourself. Say, maybe we aren’t shoving over what we got left of the old Series V on the Britishers, too! Now I don’t know what plans you folks have, and the one thing we learn here in England about handling our guests——”

(Sam wondered if Hurd noticed the sudden rigidity with which Fran received the suggestion that she could ever be considered a guest of Mr. A. B. Hurd.)

“——is not to bother ’em, like the Americans do, but let ’em alone when they want to be let alone. Now this noon you folks come grab lunch with me at the Savoy Grill—say, I’ve got the waiters there trained, and I’ll tell ’em they’re not to treat you like ordinary Americans—they all think I’m English; they think I’m kidding ’em when I tell ’em I’m a good Yank and proud of it! And then tomorrow evening I’ll get Mrs. Hurd to come in from the country—we’re living at Beaconsfield, got practically an acre there—and we might all take in a show. You folks will enjoy the English stage—real highbrow actors that know how to talk the English language, not a lot of these New York roughnecks. And then maybe next week-end you might like to come down and stay with us, and I’ll drive you around and show you some real English landscape, and you’ll meet some of the real sure’nough English. There’s a very high-class Englishman living right near us, in fact he’s a knight, Sir Wilkie Absolom, the famous solicitor, that I know your good lady will fall for hard, Chief. Him and I play golf together right along, and I tell you he’s a real democratic guy—he’ll take you in and treat you just like you were English yourselves!”

“I think, Mr. Hurd,” said Fran, “that we’d better be starting off and——” (So sweetly; as to a maid whom she was going to discharge come Saturday.) “——we can discuss plans on the way. You’re very kind to bother with us, but I’m afraid that just these next few days we’re going to be rather horribly busy. We’ve already, unfortunately, accepted a week-end invitation from some old friends—you see, I lived here a long time, before I was married—and tomorrow evening we’re dining out. But now let’s go and have lunch, and Sam and you will have such a nice chance to discuss all the details of the U.A.C. Just forget that I’m there.”

And Hurd was unconscious that anything whatever had happened.

“Huh! Guess it’d be pretty hard to ever forget you were around, Mrs. Dodsworth! But I certainly would like to get the real, honest-to-God low-down on the combine. And maybe you’ll be able to come out to us for the week-end after that. One American thing we do stick to—real central heating! Maybe won’t be as swell as some of these castles, but lot more comfy all right!”

“Oh, I’m sure of it. Shall we go now?”

Sam raged within, “I’m not going to stand her highhatting him like that! He’s being as polite as he can.” And, as heartily as Hurd, he shouted, “Wait there! Hold your horses, Fran! If Hurd is buying us all this expensive food, we got to give him a cocktail first. He’ll be our housewarming party here.”

He stamped firmly across the floor, rang for a waiter, and ordered cocktails, ignoring her flashed fury, though he knew that he would have to pay for it afterward. But he did hope that Hurd wouldn’t say, drinking, “Well, here’s looking at you, Chief!”

Hurd didn’t. He said, “Well, here’s mud in your eye! Ha, ha, ha! Say, by golly, I guess it’s a year since I’ve heard anybody get that off! But there’s a few of the good old American expressions a fellow likes to keep up, even when he’s lived as long among the English as I have. Well, let’s go feed the old faces. Certainly is awful’ nice to have you folks here. We must see a lot of each other.”