'Skilly! Sounds as if it might be what she hit the policeman with.' Mrs. Fox-Moore was again pausing to look back. 'That gyrating female is more what I expected them all to be.'
'Yes; but just listen to that.'
'To what?'
'Why, the way they're applauding her.'
'Yes, they positively revel in the creature!'
It was a long, tiresome business this worming their way out. They paused again and again two or three times, looking back at the scene with a recurrent curiosity, and each time repelled by the platform graces of the lady who was so obviously enjoying herself to the top of her bent. Yet even after the fleeing twain arrived on the fringe of the greatly augmented crowd, something even then prevented their instantly making the most of their escape. They stood criticizing and denouncing.
Again Mrs. Fox-Moore said it was a pity, since they were there, that they should have to go without hearing one of those who had been in prison, 'For we'll never have another chance.'
'Perhaps,' said her sister, looking back at the gesticulating figure—'perhaps we're being a little unreasonable. We were annoyed at first because they weren't what we expected, and when we get what we came to see, we run away.'
While still they lingered, with a final fling of arms and toss of plumes, the champion of the women of England sat down in the midst of applause.
'You hear? It's all very well. Most of them simply loved it.'