A Ladies Man Page #3

"A Ladies Man" by Robert Barr is a lighthearted romantic comedy that follows the adventures of a charming and witty protagonist who is a self-proclaimed "ladies' man." The story unfolds as he navigates the complexities of love, friendship, and social expectations in a humorous and engaging manner. With clever dialogue and relatable characters, Barr explores the themes of romance, societal norms, and the often comical challenges of courtship, making it a delightful read for fans of early 20th-century literature.

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accordingly.

Mr. Stewart Montague gave it as his opinion that the mission was
hopeless from the first, and in this I quite agreed with him. He said
he would try his plan at dinner, but what it was he refused to state.
We asked if he would report on the success or failure, and he answered
that we would all see whether it was a success or failure for
ourselves. So there was a good deal of interest centring around the
meal, an interest not altogether called forth by the pangs of hunger.

Dinner had hardly commenced when Mr. Stewart Montague leaned over the
table and said, in quite an audible voice, to the young lady opposite
him, “I understand you have never been over the ocean before?”

The young lady looked just a trifle frightened, blushed very prettily,
and answered in a low voice that she had not.

Then he said, “I envy you the first impressions you will have of
Europe. It is a charming country. Where do you go after leaving
England?”

“We are going across to Paris first,” she replied, still in a low
voice.

Most of us, however, were looking at the “dragon.” That lady sat bolt
upright in her chair as if she could not believe her ears. Then she
said, in an acid voice, “Miss Fleming.”

“Yes, Mrs. Scrivener-Yapling,” answered that young lady.

“Will you oblige me by coming here for a moment?”

Miss Fleming slowly revolved in her circular chair, then rose and
walked up to the head of the table.

“Miss Strong,” said the “dragon” calmly, to the young lady who sat
beside her, “will you oblige me by taking Miss Fleming’s place at the
centre of the table?”

Miss Strong rose and took Miss Fleming’s place.

“Sit down beside me, please?” said the “dragon” to Miss Fleming; and
that unfortunate young woman, now as red as a rose, sat down beside the
“dragon.”

Stewart Montague bit his lip. The rest of us said nothing, and appeared
not to notice what had occurred. Conversation went on among ourselves.
The incident seemed ended; but, when the fish was brought, and placed
before Miss Fleming, she did not touch it. Her eyes were still upon the
table. Then, apparently unable to struggle any longer with her
emotions, she rose gracefully, and, bowing to the captain, said,
“Excuse me, please.” She walked down the long saloon with a firm step,
and disappeared. The “dragon” tried to resume conversation with the
captain as if nothing had happened; but that official answered only in
monosyllables, and a gloom seemed to have settled down upon the dinner
party.

Very soon the captain rose and excused himself. There was something to
attend to on deck, he said, and he left us.

As soon as we had reassembled in the smoking-room, and the steward had
brought in our cups of black coffee, Stewart Montague arose and said,
“Gentlemen, I know just what you are going to say to me. It was
brutal. Of course I didn’t think the ‘dragon’ would do such a thing. My
plan was a complete failure. I expected that conversation would take
place across the table all along the line, if I broke the ice.”

Whatever opinions were held, none found expression, and that evening in
the smoking-room was as gloomy as the hour at the dinner-table.

Towards the shank of the evening a gentleman, who had never been in the
smoking-room before, entered very quietly. We recognised him as the man
who sat to the left of the captain opposite the “dragon.” He was a man
of middle age and of somewhat severe aspect. He spoke with deliberation
when he did speak, and evidently, weighed his words. All we knew of him
was that the chair beside his at meal-times had been empty since the
voyage began, and it was said that his wife took her meals in her
state-room. She had appeared once on deck with him, very closely
veiled, and hung upon his arm in a way that showed she was not standing
the voyage very well, pleasant as it had been.

“Gentlemen,” began the man suavely, “I would like to say a few words to
you if I were certain that my remarks would be taken in the spirit in
which they are given, and that you would not think me intrusive or
impertinent.”

“Go ahead,” said Montague, gloomily, who evidently felt a premonition
of coming trouble.

The serious individual waited until the steward had left the room, then
he closed the door. “Gentlemen,” he continued, “I will not recur to the
painful incident which happened at the dinner-table to-night further
than by asking you, as honourable men, to think of Mrs.
Scrivener-Yapling’s position of great responsibility. She stands in the
place of a mother to a number of young ladies who, for the first time
in their lives, have left their homes.”

“Lord pity them,” said somebody, who was sitting in the corner.

The gentleman paid no attention to the remark.

“Now what I wish to ask of you is that you will not make Mrs.
Scrivener-Yapling’s position any harder by futile endeavours to form
the acquaintance of the young ladies.”

At this point Stewart Montague broke out. “Who the devil are you, sir,
and who gave you the right to interfere?”

“As to who I am,” said the gentleman, quietly, “my name is Kensington,
and—”

“West or South?” asked the man in the corner.

At this there was a titter of laughter.

“My name is Kensington,” repeated the gentleman, “and I have been asked
by Mrs. Scrivener-Yapling to interfere, which I do very reluctantly. As
I said at the beginning, I hope you will not think my interference is
impertinent. I only do so at the earnest request of the lady I have
mentioned, because I am a family man myself, and I understand and
sympathise with the lady in the responsibility which she has assumed.”

“It seems to me,” said the man in the corner, “that if the ‘dragon’ has
assumed responsibilities and they have not been thrust upon her, which
I understand they have not, then she must take the responsibility of
the responsibilities which she has assumed. Do I make myself clear?”

“Gentlemen,” said Mr. Kensington, “it is very painful for me to speak
with you upon this subject. I feel that what I have so clumsily
expressed may not be correctly understood; but I appeal to your honour
as gentlemen, and I am sure I will not appeal in vain when I ask you
not to make further effort towards the acquaintance of the young
ladies, because all that you can succeed in doing will be to render
their voyage unpleasant to themselves, and interrupt, if not seriously
endanger, the good feeling which I understand has always existed
between Mrs. Scrivener-Yapling and her protégées.”

“All right,” said the man in the corner. “Have a drink, Mr.
Kensington?”

“Thank you, I never drink,” answered Mr. Kensington.

“Have a smoke, then?”

“I do not smoke either, thank you all the same for your offer. I hope,
gentlemen, you will forgive my intrusion on you this evening. Good
night.”

“Impudent puppy,” said Stewart Montague, as he closed the door behind
him.

But in this we did not agree with him, not even the man in the corner.

“He is perfectly right,” said that individual, “and I believe that we
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