Chapter VII Khaki Fever

* * * * * It was high noon at Palm Beach, and a rolling chair, propelled by a coal-black gentleman in white raiment and containing an obvious Englishman in blue serge, was proceeding along a pleasant thoroughfare known as Sunset Avenue towards the sea. The charioteer leaned forward confidentially and inquired: “Do ah stop in at the Tilford home, Captain?” “You do, George.” “Ah suppose she will be all wait’n’ on de po’ch,” suggested George—“like yesterday. Captain?” George’s surmise was c…