In a panic he fled from the house before breakfast, going out by way of
a side door, and he crossed back yards and climbed back fences to reach
Albert Paxton the more swiftly. This creature, a ladies' man almost
professionally, was found exercising with an electric iron and a pair of
flannel trousers in a basement laundry, by way of stirring his appetite
for the morning meal.
"See here, Albert," his friend said breathlessly. "I got a favour. I
want you to go over to Milla's--"
"I'm goin' to finish pressin' these trousers," Albert interrupted. "Then
I've got my breakfast to eat."
"Well, you could do this first," said Ramsey, hurriedly. "It wouldn't
hurt you to do me this little favour first. You just slip over and see
Milla for me, if she's up yet, and if she isn't, you better wait around
there till she is, because I want you to tell her I'm a whole lot better
this morning. Tell her I'm pretty near practick'ly all right again,
Albert, and I'll prob'ly write her a note or something right soon--or in
a week or so, anyhow.
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