It was better even than the hymn-singing. A buxom piece, who looked, Gerald decided, as if she would be more at home in an amorous engagement in a hayloft than sitting demurely in a ballroom. She even touched lightly on her father’s unreasonableness. She leaned a little towards him. When he comes he will do that raid of the pantechnicons the justice it deserves; he will picture the orderly evening scene about the Imperial Legislature in convincing detail, the coming and going of cabs and motor-cabs and broughams through the chill, damp evening into New Palace Yard, the reinforced but untroubled and unsuspecting police about the entries of those great buildings whose square and panelled Victorian Gothic streams up from the glare of the lamps into the murkiness of the night; Big Ben shining overhead, an unassailable beacon, and the incidental traffic of Westminster, cabs, carts, and glowing omnibuses going to and from the bridge. But what he could do or might do she could not imagine. Alarmed by the noise of the scuffle, Quilt and Sharples rushed to the assistance of their comrade. Ennison listened, and his eyes glowed. The comments on the makeover lessened but were replaced by long admiring glances by boys who had never before given her the time of day. After a brief conversation, which Sheppard sustained with his accustomed liveliness, the old man turned to Bess and addressed a few words of common-place gallantry to her.
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