Under this friendly treatment Mr. Eames grew
thinner from day to day; he was visibly losing flesh. The dame
prospered. Piloted by the love-sick bibliographer she gradually waddled
her way--it was uphill work, for both of them--into the uppermost strata
of local society where, owing to the rarefied atmosphere, her appetite,
to say nothing of her person, soon gained notoriety. She was known, in
briefest space of time, as "the cormorant," as "prime streaky," as
"Jumbo," as "the phenomenon" and, by those who understood the French
language, as the "BALLON CAPTIF."
The "BALLON CAPTIF." . . .
How things got about, on Nepenthe! Somehow or other, this odious
nickname reached her lover's ears. It embittered his existence to such
an extent that, long after the idyll was over, he had serious thoughts
of leaving the island and would doubtless have done so, but for his
re-kindled enthusiasm for Monsignor Perrelli. So sensitive did he
remain on this point that the mere mention of balloons, or even
aeroplanes, would make him wince and feel desirous of leaving the room;
he always thought that people introduced the subject with malicious
purpose, in order to remind him of this unforgettable peccadillo, the
"balloon business," his one lapse from perfect propriety.
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