Matter. Engrossed with his own affairs, and having regarded their
late skirmish as a decisive battle from which there would be no
rallying, he had overlooked the possibility of this annoying and
unnecessary person following them in another cab--a task which, in
the congested, slow-moving traffic, must have been a perfectly
simple one. Well, here he was, his soul manifestly all stirred up
and his blood-pressure at a far higher figure than his doctor would
have approved of, and the matter would have to be opened all over
again.

"Now then!" said the stout young man.

George regarded him with a critical and unfriendly eye. He disliked
this fatty degeneration excessively. Looking him up and down, he
could find no point about him that gave him the least pleasure,
with the single exception of the state of his hat, in the side of
which he was rejoiced to perceive there was a large and unshapely
dent.

"You thought you had shaken me off! You thought you'd given me the
slip! Well, you're wrong!"

George eyed him coldly.

"I know what's the matter with you," he said. "Someone's been
feeding you meat."

The young man bubbled with fury. His face turned a deeper scarlet.
He gesticulated.