Harry!" he shouted.
Annan cautiously appeared, ready for rapid flight.
"Aw come on in! My face suits me.

Besides, thank Heaven I've got a reputation back of it; but yours breaks the speed laws.

Will you go up there with me--like a man ?" "Where ?" "To Estwich ?" "When ?" inquired Annan, sceptically.
"Now!--b' jinks!" "Have _you_ sufficient nerve, _this_ time ?" "Watch me." And he dragged out a suit-case and began wildly throwing articles of toilet and apparel into it, "Come on, Harry!" he shouted, hurling a pair of tennis shoes at the suit-case; "I've got to go while I'm excited or I'll never budge!" But when, ten minutes later, Annan arrived, suit-case in hand, ready for love's journey, he could scarcely contrive to kick and drag Sam into the elevator, and, later, into a taxicab.
Ogilvy sat there alternately shivering and attempting to invent imperative engagements in town which he had just remembered, but Annan said angrily: "No, you don't.

This makes the seventh time I've started with you for Estwich, and I'm going to put it through or perish in a hand-to-hand conflict with you." And he started for the train, dragging Sam with him, talking angrily all the time.
He talked all the way to Estwich, too, partly to reassure Ogilvy and give him no time for terrified reflection, partly because he liked to talk.

And when they arrived at the Estwich Arms he shoved Ogilvy into a room, locked the door, and went away to telephone to the Countess d'Enver.
"Yes ?" she inquired sweetly, "who is it ?" "Me," replied Annan, regardless of an unpopular grammatical convention.
"I'm here with Ogilvy.