Presently she was going through a swaying, noisy crowd, whose faces grinned and stared pitilessly in the light of the electric standards. Yet either the rest or the wine seemed already to have done him good. "Why, first," rejoined Austin, "there's Sir James Thornhill, historical painter to his Majesty, and the greatest artist of the day. She was wearing a becoming tea-gown, and it was quite certain that Sir John would not be home for several hours at least. All the same, I wish I had that fellow by the throat! Just the virile, unregenerate man in me wishes that. Nothing else was put in their place, and they remained sotto voce, as it were, in his mind. "But, I say, that girl is a queer one.
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