Міжнародний епізод

           Westgate,laughing.“It’sa—well,whatshallIcallit?It’sawateringplace.Inshort,it’sNewport.You’llseewhatitis.It’scool;that’stheprincipalthing.YouwillgreatlyobligemebygoingdownthereandputtingyourselfintothehandsofMrs.Westgate.Itisn’tperhapsformetosayit,butyoucouldn’tbeinbetterhands.Alsointhoseofhersister,whoisstayingwithher.SheisveryfondofEnglishmen.Shethinksthereisnothinglikethem.”“Mrs.Westgateor—a—hersister?”askedPercyBeaumontmodestly,yetinthetoneofaninquiringtraveler.“Oh,Imeanmywife,”saidMr.Westgate.“Idon’tsupposemysister-in-lawknowsmuchaboutthem.Shehasalwaysledaveryquietlife;shehaslivedinBoston.”PercyBeaumontlistenedwithinterest.“That,Ibelieve,”hesaid,“isthemost—a—intellectualtown?”“Ibelieveitisveryintellectual.Idon’tgotheremuch,”respondedhishost.“Isay,weoughttogothere,”saidLordLambethtohiscompanion.“Oh,LordLambeth,waittillthegreatheatisover,”Mr.Westgateinterposed.“Bostoninthisweatherwouldbeverytrying;it’snotthetemperatureforintellectualexertion.AtBoston,youknow,youhavetopassanexaminationatthecitylimits;andwhenyoucomeawaytheygiveyouakindofdegree.”LordLambethstared,blushingalittle;andPercyBeaumontstaredalittlealso—butonlywithhisfinenaturalcomplexion—glancingasideafteramomenttoseethathiscompanionwasnotlookingtoocredulous,forhehadheardagreatdealofAmericanhumor.