So she brought upon the stage the Reverend Henry Dolby, a preacher of means, worldly-wise and kindly, cheery and rotund, who, with his wife and daughter, had arrived at the Victoria that morning. Their journey had made them indolent, the afternoon was warm, and it seemed impossible to breathe a sweeter air. Both carried packages of books and magazines. She began to act. The curtain tinkled as her head brushed it, but he neither saw nor heard. Then came the javelin-men, walking four abreast, and lastly, a long line of constables, marching in the same order. ‘And, if this was not enough,’ went on the lady furiously, ‘you dare to say I am French. She dived at once behind the cover of the lamproom and affected serious trouble with her shoe-lace until he was out of the station, and then she followed slowly and with extreme discretion until the bifurcation of the Avenue from the field way insured her escape.
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