wrote."Itseemedwickedtowasteevenamoment."
ThelongwindowsofKensingtonPalaceflushedfieryroseasJacobwalkedawayaflockofwildduckflewovertheSerpentineandthetreeswerestoodagainstthesky,blackly,magnificently.
"Jacob,"wroteMrs.Flanders,withtheredlightonherpage,"ishardatworkafterhisdelightfuljourney…"
"TheKaiser,"thefar-awayvoiceremarkedinWhitehall,"receivedmeinaudience."
"NowIknowthatface—"saidtheReverendAndrewFloyd,comingoutofCarter'sshopinPiccadilly,"butwhothedickens—?"andhewatchedJacob,turnedroundtolookathim,butcouldnotbesure—
"Oh,JacobFlanders!"herememberedinaflash.
Buthewassotallsounconscioussuchafineyoungfellow.
"IgavehimByron'sworks,"AndrewFloydmused,andstartedforward,asJacobcrossedtheroadbuthesitated,andletthemomentpass,andlosttheopportunity.
Anotherprocession,withoutbanners,wasblockingLongAcre.Carriages,withdowagersinamethystandgentlemenspottedwithcarnations,interceptedcabsandmotor-carsturnedintheoppositedirection,inwhichjadedmeninwhitewaistcoatslolled,ontheirwayhometoshrubberiesandbilliard-roomsinPutneyandWimbledon.
Twobarrel-organsplayedbythekerb,andhorsescomingoutofAldridge'swithwhitelabelsontheirbuttocksstraddledacrosstheroadandweresmartlyjerkedback.
Mrs.Durrant,sittingwithMr.Wortleyinamotor-car,wasimpatientlesttheyshouldmisstheoverture.
ButMr.Wortley,alwaysurbane,alwaysintimefortheoverture,buttonedhisgloves,andadmiredMissClara.
"Ashametospendsuchanightinthetheatre!"saidMrs.Durrant,seeingallthewindowsofthecoachmakersinLongAcreablaze.
"Thinkofyourmoors!"saidMr.WortleytoClara.
"Ah!butClaralikesthisbetter,"Mrs.Durrantlaughed.
"Idon'tknow—really,"saidClara,lookingattheblazingwindows.Shestarted.
ShesawJacob.
"Who?"askedMrs.Durrantsharply,leaningforward.
Butshesawnoone.
UnderthearchoftheOperaHouselargefacesandleanones,thepowderedandthehairy,