But it was Experience.
Mr. Preemby bestirred himself to undress.
That night-shirt of Saxony flannel had still to be unpacked.
§ 9
In the morning Christina Alberta was still restless and quite undecided about going to Tunbridge Wells, though the weather was perfectly fine. About half-past eleven she disappeared, and after a light lunch with Fay—Harold was out also—it became evident to Mr. Preemby that the visit to Tunbridge Wells was postponed for the day. So he went to South Kensington to look at the Museums there. He did not go into them actually, he just looked at them and at the colleges and buildings generally. It was a preliminary reconnaissance.
The Museums were quite good to look at. Larger, more extensive, than the British Museum. Probably they contained—all sorts of things.
Christina Alberta reappeared in the studio about half-past six looking very bright and exalted. There was something about her subtly triumphant.
She offered no explanation of her disappearance. She was full of the visit to Tunbridge on the morrow. They must catch a train soon after nine and have a good long day. She was unusually affectionate to her Daddy.
Harold was out for the evening and Fay had some reviewing to do, so they had quite a quiet and domestic evening. Mr. Preemby read with a varying attention a nice deep confusing book he had found in the room upstairs called Fantasia of the Unconscious about the Lost Atlantis and similar things.