Our Mr. Wrenn The Romantic Adventures of a Gentle Man

f the uniformed functionaries. He looked for the Merian half the way over. As he walked through Birkenhead, bound for Chester, he pricked himself on to note red-brick house-rows, almost shocking in

as the

old McGarver" were along. A scene so British that it seemed proper to enjoy it alone he did find in a real garden-party, with what appeared to be a real curate, out of a story in T

and asking the guide two intelligent questions about Roman remains. He snooped through the galleried streets, peering up dark stairways set

a splendid trip. This is a very interesting old town. Wish you were here." Pantingly, he found a panorama showing the hotel where he was staying-or at

, in the close, where knights had tied their romantically pawing chargers, "just like he'd read about in a story about the olden ti

d, feeling like an intruder on the lively night crowd; in a tap-room he drank a glass of English porter and tried to make himself believe t

ntly rose and fled, with loneliness for companion in his flight. He was lonely. He sighed that he was "lonely as fits." Lonely-the wo

ly beside him in the compartment. He tried to convey to a stodgy North Countryman his interest in the wa

of honor for him to keep his eyes away, Mr. Wrenn duti

rangleses," crossed by summering students in short flappy gowns. But he always returned to his exile's room, where he now beg

e would never see again. He had to use force on himself to keep from hurryi

t somehow, and get onto the hang

n it all. I feel rotte

. Mr. Wrenn viewed them attentively, and with shame remembered that he didn't know who Walter Pater was. But-oh yes, now he remembe

e genius of the nineteenth century," lectured

in somebody. Mittyford had a bald head, neat eye-glasses, a fair family income, a chatty good-fellowship at the Faculty Club, and a chilly contemptu

d that he had never heard of Shelley, whose name he confused with Max O'Rell's, which Dr. Mittyford deemed an error. Then, Pater's window. The doctor shrugged. Oh well, what could

wned, Mr. Wrenn found that AEschylus left him cold. It seemed to be pr

ome language, bearing the legend that from this volume Fitzgerald had tra

ok," said

ou note wh

ald. Say, I think I read some of that Rubaiyat. It was so

d bitterly to the o

vening Mr. Wrenn's l

tleman below t

urted Mr

ut and was overwhelmed by a motor-car, with Dr. Mittyford waiting in awesome fur coat, gog

hero in a novel!"

e pedagogue. "I'm going to gi

frightened and resentful at being "dragged into all this highbrow b

feel bored this evening. I thought I would give you a nuit blanche. How would y

," said Mr. Wrenn,

ho promptly told one of the best of his w

remarked

ven try to be a society guy with him no more. I'm just going

d sympathetic and t

the rhetorician's

ing to say, but it was not a simple thing for Mr. Wrenn to see. As he observed the tremblin

though they were in such a tale as men told in believing days. Rustics in smocks drank ale from tankards;

looked devil-may-care, made delightful ridges on the sanded floor with his toe, and clapped a pewter pot on his knee with a small emphatic "Wop!" After about two and a quarter tan

a romanticist, t

I haven't enjoyed Oxford and the rest of the places like I ought to. See, I'd always thought I'd be simply nutty about the quatrangles an

ificent, had mixed

llowly in

in certain factual bases. As I see it, your metier would be to travel with a pleasant wife, the two of you hand in hand, so to speak, looking at the more obvious pub

and presented to Mr. Wrenn the world and all the plesaunces ther

of thing. Do about Oxford? Why, go back, master the world you understand. By the way, have you seen my book on Saxon Derivativ

s advice gratefully confirmed his own theory that what one wanted was friends-a "nice wife"-folks. "Yes, sir, by golly! It was awfully nice of the Doc." He pictured a tender girl in golden brown back in the New Yo

of shirt-front and two gleaming ellipses for eyes.... His dear friend, the Doc!... As he walked through the room chairs got humorously in his wa

to shut off the light from his scorching eyeballs, that Dr. Mittyford had called him a fool for trying to wander. He protested, but not for long,

feeling that he was very wicked

pursuit, for he was about to ship on a Mediterranean steamer laden chiefly with adventurous friends. The bus passed

t invite any Mr. Wrenns to come in and ship, nor did the hall porter, a beefy person with a huge col

o kind and tell me where I can

e ne

ant to get any kind

or-It don't mak

an." The porter examined t

ded: "Look here, you; I want to see somebody in

mankind was destroyed by the shock of finding the fe

see somebody in

tely esteemed a wit

y, he answer

ies of enjoying pictures. He zig-zagged home, mourning: "What's the use. And I'll be hung if I'll try any other offices, either. T

sused English cruelly; she wore greasy cotton garments, planted her large feet on the floor with firm clumsiness, and always laughed at the wrong cue in his diffident jests. But she did laugh; s

the cocoa-h

ouched him with warm elbow and plump hip, leaning against his chair as he gave his order. To that he looke

en he suddenly understood that she was expecting to be tempted. He tempted h

he rest of the meal, and so he remained all afternoon at the Tower of London, though he very

waiting for her. At eight-thirty he indignantly walked away, but he

great mystery of life, then distressingly angry at the w

his attention on the "tick, tick, tick, tick" of his two-dollar watch, but real

o threaten his life, yet his friendly watch and familiar suit-case seemed the only things he could trust in all the m

onably smoking on the top deck; Lee Theresa flattering him during an evening walk. Most of all he pictured the brown-eyed sweetheart he was going to meet somewhere, so

o do-make acquaintances. A girl who would understand him, with whom he c

e created the two phrases which became his formula for happiness. He desired "so

He sat back, satisfied, and caught the sound of emptines

ton-" h

udied the desolate circle of light a street-lamp cast on the wet pavement. A cat gray as dish-water, its fur worn off in spots, lean and hor

ghingly, wrestling for an umbrella, then disappeared, and the street was like a forgotten tomb. A hansom sw

it had traveled with him. He spun his watch about on the table, and li

he were going to the scaffold. When the room was dark the great s

room was dusty, mottled, gray, lifeless. He saw his door, half ajar, and for some moments lay motionless, watching stark and bod

phantoms that had gathered there. Some hidden manful scorn of weak

to bed to sleep, throwing himself down with

d sleep. Then he remembered that he was in the cold and friendless prison of England, and

ge (and of course a fellow would go steerage to save money) would want to know his religion and the color of his hair-as bad as trying to ship. They might hold him up for a co

ter his arrival in London, and twenty-two days after