He made a solemn obeisance.
"Colonel," he said, "will you make one of a little informal repast? We
are, you see, at the lady's table."
Overcome by a sharp weakness, Elim slipped into the chair at his side
and faced Rosemary Roselle. The latter gave no sign of his presence.
She sat frozen into a species of statuesque rage. "Like you," the negro
continued pompously, "we invited ourselves. All things are free and
easy for all. The glorious principle of equality instituted lately has
swept away--swept away the inviderous distinctions of class and color.
The millenium has come!" He made a grandiloquent gesture with a sooty
hand.
"'Ray!" the sodden individual opposite unexpectedly cried.
"We came in," the other continued, "to uphold our rights as the
exponents of--of----"
"You sneaked in the kitchen," the woman in the doorway interrupted;
"and I found you rummaging in the press."
"Silence!" the orator commanded. "Are you unaware of the dignity now
resting on your kinks--hair, hair." He rose, facing Elim Meikeljohn.
"Colonel, gentleman, in a conglomeration where we are all glorious
cohevals of--of--"
"Shut up!" said the apostrophized colonel, sudden and fretful. "Get
out!"
The orator paused, disconcerted, in the midflow of his figures; and
unaccustomed arrogance struggled with habitual servility. "Gentleman,"
he repeated, "in a corposity of souls high above all narrow
malignations--"
Elim Meikeljohn took his revolver from its holster and laid it before
him on the table.
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