It was an undoubted pity that there had not been time to go
to a good tailor. The suit he had on was right enough for
ordinary purposes, and his evening-clothes were as good as new,
but the thought of a costume for shooting harassed his mind.
He had brought along with him, for this eventful visit,
an old Mexican outfit of yellowish-grey cloth and leather,
much the worse for rough wear, but saved from the disreputable
by its suggestion of picturesque experiences in a strange
and romantic country. At least it had seemed to him,
in the morning, when he had packed it, to be secure
in this salvation. Uneasy doubts on the subject had
soon risen, however, and they had increased in volume
and poignancy as his conceptions of a wardrobe expanded
in the course of the day's investigations and purchases.
He had reached the point now of hoping that it would
rain bitterly on the morrow.
It was doubly important to keep a close look-out for
Lord Plowden, since he did not know the name of the station
they were to book for, and time was getting short. He dwelt
with some annoyance upon his oversight in this matter,
as his watchful glance ranged from one entrance to another.
He would have liked to buy the tickets himself, and have
everything in readiness on the arrival of his host.
As it was, he could not even tell the porter how his
luggage was to be labelled, and there was now less than
two minutes! He moved forward briskly, with the thought
of intercepting his friend at the front of the station;
then halted, and went back, upon the recollection
that while he was going out one way, Plowden might come
in by the other.
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