A Ladies Man Page #4

"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.

• Travel

								

ought to be ashamed of ourselves. It will only make trouble, and I for
one am going to give up the hunt.”

So, from that time forward, the smoking-room collectively made no
effort towards the acquaintance of the young ladies. The ladies’
seminary walk, as it was called, took place every morning punctually,
and sometimes Mr. Kensington accompanied the walkers. Nevertheless,
individual friendships, in spite of everything that either Mr.
Kensington or the “dragon” could do, sprang up between some of the
young men and some of the girls, but the “dragon” had an invaluable
ally in Mr. Kensington. The moment any of the young ladies began
walking with any of the young gentlemen on deck, or the moment they
seated themselves in steamer chairs together, the urbane, always polite
Mr. Kensington appeared on the scene and said, “Miss So-and-So, Mrs.
Scrivener-Yapling would like to speak with you.”

Then the young lady would go with Mr. Kensington, while the young
gentleman was apt to use strong language and gnash his teeth.

Mr. Kensington seemed lynx-eyed. There was no escaping him. Many in the
smoking-room no doubt would have liked to have picked a flaw in his
character if they could. One even spoke of the old chestnut about a man
who had no small vices being certain to have some very large ones; but
even the speakers themselves did not believe this, and any one could
see at a glance that Mr. Kensington was a man of sterling character.
Some hinted that his wife was the victim of his cruelty, and kept her
state-room only because she knew that he was so fond of the “dragon’s”
company, and possibly that of some of the young ladies as well. But
this grotesque sentiment did not pass current even in the smoking-room.
Nevertheless, although he was evidently so good a man, he was certainly
the most unpopular individual on board The Tub. The hatred that
Stewart Montague felt for him ever since that episode in the
smoking-room was almost grotesque.

Montague had somehow managed to get a contrite note of apology and
distress to Miss Fleming, and several times the alert Mr. Kensington
had caught them together, and asked Miss Fleming with the utmost
respect to come down and see Mrs. Scrivener-Yapling.

All in all the “dragon” did not have a very easy time of it. She fussed
around like any other old hen who had in charge a brood of ducks.

Once I thought there was going to be a row between Montague and
Kensington. He met that gentleman in a secluded part of the deck, and,
going up to him, said—

“You old wife deserter, why can’t you attend to your own affairs?”

Kensington turned deadly pale at this insult, and his fists clinched—

“What do you mean?” he said huskily.

“I mean what I say. Why don’t you take your own wife walking on the
deck, and leave the young ladies alone. It’s none of your business with
whom they walk.”

Kensington seemed about to reply; but he thought better of it, turned
on his heel, and left Montague standing there.

The old Tub worried her way across the ocean, and reached the bar at
Liverpool just in time to be too late to cross it that night. Word was
passed along that a tender would come out from Liverpool for us, which
was not a very cheering prospect, as we would have two hours’ sail at
least in what was practically an open boat.

Finally the tender came alongside, and the baggage was dumped down upon
it. All of us gathered together ready to leave The Tub. Mr.
Kensington, with his closely-veiled wife hanging on his arm, was
receiving the thanks and congratulations of the “dragon.” The fifteen
girls were all around her. Before any one started down the sloping
gangway plank, however, two policemen, accompanied by a woman, hurried
up on board The Tub.

“Now, madam,” said the policeman, “is he here?”

We saw that trouble was coming, and everybody looked at everybody else.

“Is he here?” cried the woman excitedly; “there he stands, the villain.
Oh, you villain, you scoundrel, you mean rascal, to leave me, as you
thought, penniless in New York, and desert your own wife and family for
that—that creature!” We all looked at Kensington, and his face was
greenish-pale. The heavily veiled woman shrunk behind him and the
policeman tried to make the true wife keep quiet.

“Is your name Braughton?”

Kensington did not answer. His eyes were riveted on his wife. “In the
name of God,” he cried aghast, “how did you come here?”

“How did I come here,” she shrieked. “Oh, you thought you slipped away
nicely, didn’t you? But you forgot that the Clipper left the next
day, and I’ve been here two days waiting for you. You little thought
when you deserted me and my children in New York that we would be here
to confront you at Liverpool.”

“Come, come.” said the policeman, “there’s no use of this. I am afraid
you will have to come with us, sir.”

They took him in charge, and the irate wife then turned like a tigress
on the heavily veiled woman who was with him.

“No wonder you are ashamed to show your face,” she cried.

“Come, come,” said the policeman, “come, come.” And they managed to
induce her to say no more.

“Madam,” said young Montague to the speechless ‘dragon,’ “I want to ask
your permission to allow me to carry Miss Fleming’s hand- baggage
ashore.”

“How dare you speak to me, sir?” she answered.

“Because,” he said, in a low voice, “I thought perhaps you wouldn’t
like an account of this affair to go to the Boston newspapers. I’m a
newspaper man, you see,” he added, with unblushing mendacity. Then,
turning to Miss Fleming, he said, “Won’t you allow me to carry this for
you?”

Miss Fleming surrendered the natty little handbag she had with her, and
smiled. The “dragon” made no objection.
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