He turned from her to Scrap again, and forgot Rose Arbuthnot's
existence. How was it possible for him to bother about anybody or
anything else in this first moment of being face to face with his dream
come true?
Briggs had not supposed or hoped that any one as beautiful as his
dream of beauty existed. He had never till now met even an
approximation. Pretty women, charming women by the score he had met
and properly appreciated, but never the real, the godlike thing itself.
He used to think "If ever I saw a perfectly beautiful woman I should
die"; and though, having now met what to his ideas was a perfectly
beautiful woman, he did not die, he became very nearly as incapable of
managing his own affairs as if he had.
The others were obliged to arrange everything for him. By
questions they extracted from him that his luggage was in the station
cloakroom at Mezzago, and they sent for Domenico, and, urged and
prompted by everybody except Scrap, who sat in silence and looked at no
one, Briggs was induced to give him the necessary instructions for
going back in the fly and bringing out his things.
It was a sad sight to see the collapse of Briggs. Everybody
noticed it, even Rose.
"Upon my word," thought Mrs. Fisher, "the way one pretty face can
turn a delightful man into an idiot is past all patience.
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