Archie slapped the back of the evening-dress coat.  He linked his arm affectionately with that of the dress-reformer.

“We met outside St Mihiel in the war.  You gave me a bit of sausage.  One of the most sporting events in history.  Nobody but a real sportsman would have parted with a bit of sausage at that moment to a stranger.  Never forgotten it, by Jove.  Saved my life, absolutely.  Hadn’t chewed a morse for eight hours.  Well, have you got anything on?  I mean to say, you aren’t booked for lunch or any rot of that species, are you?  Fine!  Then I move we all toddle off and get a bite somewhere.”  He squeezed the other’s arm fondly.  “Fancy meeting you again like this!  I’ve often wondered what became of you.  But, by Jove, I was forgetting.  Dashed rude of me.  My friend, Mr. van Tuyl.”

Reggie gulped.  The longer he looked at it, the harder this man’s costume was to bear.  His eye passed shudderingly from the brown shoes to the tweed trousers, to the green scarf, from the green scarf to the straw hat.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.  “Just remembered.  Important date.  Late already.  Er—­see you some time—­”

He melted away, a broken man.  Archie was not sorry to see him go.  Reggie was a good chap, but he would undoubtedly have been de trop at this reunion.

“I vote we go to the Cosmopolis,” he said, steering his newly-found friend through the crowd.  “The browsing and sluicing isn’t bad there, and I can sign the bill which is no small consideration nowadays.”

The Sausage Chappie chuckled amusedly.

“I can’t go to a place like the Cosmopolis looking like this.”

Archie, was a little embarrassed.

“Oh, I don’t know, you know, don’t you know!” he said.  “Still, since you have brought the topic up, you did get the good old wardrobe a bit mixed this morning what?  I mean to say, you seem absent-mindedly, as it were, to have got hold of samples from a good number of your various suitings.”

“Suitings?  How do you mean, suitings?  I haven’t any suitings!  Who do you think I am?  Vincent Astor?  All I have is what I stand up in.”

Archie was shocked.  This tragedy touched him.  He himself had never had any money in his life, but somehow he had always seemed to manage to have plenty of clothes.  How this was he could not say.  He had always had a vague sort of idea that tailors were kindly birds who never failed to have a pair of trousers or something up their sleeve to present to the deserving.  There was the drawback, of course, that once they had given you things they were apt to write you rather a lot of letters about it; but you soon managed to recognise their handwriting, and then it was a simple task to extract their communications from your morning mail and drop them in the waste-paper basket.  This was the first case he had encountered of a man who was really short of clothes.