nothaveanswered,since,asMrs.DurrantdiscussedwithSirEdgarthepolicyofSirEdwardGrey,Claraonlywonderedwhythecabinetlookeddusty,andJacobhadnevercome.Oh,herewasMrs.CowleyJohnson…
AndClarawouldhandtheprettychinateacups,andsmileatthecompliment—thatnooneinLondonmadeteasowellasshedid.
"WegetitatBrocklebank's,"shesaid,"inCursitorStreet."
Oughtshenottobegrateful?Oughtshenottobehappy?
EspeciallysincehermotherlookedsowellandenjoyedsomuchtalkingtoSirEdgaraboutMorocco,Venezuela,orsomesuchplace.
"Jacob!Jacob!"thoughtClaraandkindMr.Bowley,whowaseversogoodwitholdladies,lookedstoppedwonderedwhetherElizabethwasn'ttooharshwithherdaughterwonderedaboutBonamy,Jacob—whichyoungfellowwasit?—andjumpedupdirectlyClarasaidshemustexerciseTroy.
TheyhadreachedthesiteoftheoldExhibition.Theylookedatthetulips.Stiffandcurled,thelittlerodsofwaxysmoothnessrosefromtheearth,nourishedyetcontained,suffusedwithscarletandcoralpink.Eachhaditsshadoweachgrewtrimlyinthediamond-shapedwedgeasthegardenerhadplannedit.
"Barnesnevergetsthemtogrowlikethat,"Claramusedshesighed.
"Youareneglectingyourfriends,"saidBowley,assomeone,goingtheotherway,liftedhishat.ShestartedacknowledgedMr.LionelParry'sbowwastedonhimwhathadsprungforJacob.
("Jacob!Jacob!"shethought.)
"Butyou'llgetrunoverifIletyougo,"shesaidtothedog.
"Englandseemsallright,"saidMr.Bowley.
TheloopoftherailingbeneaththestatueofAchilleswasfullofparasolsandwaistcoatschainsandbanglesofladiesandgentlemen,loungingelegantly,lightlyobservant.
"'ThisstatuewaserectedbythewomenofEngland…'"Clarareadoutwithafoolishlittlelaugh."Oh,Mr.Bowley!Oh!"Gallop—gallop—gallop—ahorsegallopedpastwithoutarider.Thestirrupsswungthepebblesspurted.
"Oh,stop!Stopit,Mr.Bowley!"shecried,white,trembling,grippinghisarm,utterlyunconscious,thetearscoming.
"Tut-tut!"saidMr.Bowleyinhisdressing-