. . She seemed just as stiff and shy as a girl ought to be, Lady Palsworthy thought, neither garrulous nor unready, and free from nearly all the heavy aggressiveness, the overgrown, overblown quality, the egotism and want of consideration of the typical modern girl. ‘It—it is—nothing,’ she uttered jerkily. And the less “anything” happened the better. "No," replied Hogarth, hastily effacing the sketch. The person, shortly afterwards ushered into the room, seemed by the imperfect light,—for the evening was advancing, and the chamber darkened by heavy drapery,—to be a middle-sized middle-aged man, of rather vulgar appearance, but with a very shrewd aspect. While this was effected, intelligence was brought that a formidable mob was pouring down Field Lane, the end of which was barricaded. The air might be cool, but half an hour without head-gear was an invitation to sunstroke.
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