But he
said, "Well, let's try to get some breakfast first, Istra."
With their garments wrinkled from rain, half asleep and rather
cross, they arrived at the esthetic but respectable colony of
Aengusmere by the noon train.
CHAPTER XI
HE BUYS AN ORANGE TIE
The Aengusmere Caravanserai is so unyieldingly cheerful and
artistic that it makes the ordinary person long for a dingy
old-fashioned room in which he can play solitaire and chew gum
without being rebuked with exasperating patience by the wall
stencils and clever etchings and polished brasses. It is
adjectiferous. The common room (which is uncommon for hotel
parlor) is all in superlatives and chintzes.
Istra had gone up to her room to sleep, bidding Mr. Wrenn do
likewise and avoid the wrong bunch at the Caravanserai; for
besides the wrong bunch of Interesting People there were, she
explained, a right bunch, of working artists. But he wanted to
get some new clothes, to replace his rain-wrinkled ready-mades.
He was tottering through the common room, wondering whether he
could find a clothing-shop in Aengusmere, when a shrill gurgle
from a wing-chair by the rough-brick fireplace halted him.
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