Biggleswade from thrusting himself upon him with a snobbish
obsequiousness; it was Mr. Biggleswade's noisy and haphazard methods of
disposing of his food, which left small portions of each course
nestling in his straggling beard, and filled the air with the sound of
the feeding of pigs.
This Sir Tancred found unendurable, and the more unendurable that Mr.
Biggleswade had made up his mind that he enjoyed his meals more in the
presence of a baronet, and always waited for his coming.
Sir Tancred was eating his breakfast mournfully, therefore, reflecting
on the unkindness of Fortune, who had afflicted Tinker with his fever
at so inconvenient a time. For he had not been able to raise the money
to take him to make his convalescence at one of the more expensive
watering places, whither resort millionaires and the smart, whose
fondness for games of chance and skill would have kept him in careless
luxury. He had been driven to bring him to Solesgate, a town of six
bathing-machines; and there the rest of his ready money dwindled to a
few shillings. A sudden cessation of the sound of the feeding of pigs
caught him from his mournful reflections. He looked up quickly, to see
Mr. Biggleswade staring at his newspaper with a most striking
expression of triumphant greed.
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