Bundercombe said severely. "Come along, Paul!"
CHAPTER XV--LORD PORTHONING'S LESSON
Mr. Bundercombe laid his hand compellingly on my arm. "Who's the
wizened-up little insect, with a snarl on his face?" he inquired of me
earnestly.
My slight impulse of irritation at such a description applied to one of my
wedding guests passed when I looked up and saw the person to whom Mr.
Bundercombe had directed my attention. I recognized the adequacy of the
wording."
"That," I replied, "is the Earl of Porthoning."
"Kind of connection, isn't he?" Mr. Bundercombe inquired.
I nodded.
"His son married my sister."
Mr. Bundercombe regarded him with a certain wistfulness which I did not at
that moment understand. Just then Lord Porthoning made his way toward us.
As I watched him approach I realized more than ever the justice of Mr.
Bundercombe's description. He was undersized, bent nearly double, and on
his wizened face and shining out of his narrow black eyes was an
indescribable expression of malevolence. Even the smile with which he
greeted me had something unpleasant in it.
"Well, Paul!" he exclaimed. "Well, my boy, so you're hooked at last, are
you?"
Considering that I was enjoying a few minutes' respite in my task of
helping Eve receive our wedding guests, the statement, though crude, was
obvious enough.
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