As he spoke a young man looked hard at Mr Bunker, and even made a movement as though he would stop and speak to him. Mr Bunker looked blandly through him and walked on.
“Do you not know zat gentleman?”
“Which gentleman?”
“Ze young man zat looked so at you.”
“Some young men have a way of staring here, Baron.”
A few minutes later a lady in a passing carriage looked round sharply at them with an air of great surprise, and half bowed.
“Surely,” exclaimed the Baron, “zat vas a frient of yours!”
“I am not a friend of hers, then,” Mr Bunker replied [pg 84] with a laugh. “Her bow I think must have been aimed at you.”
The Baron shook his head, and seemed to be drawing a moral.
“Baron,” his friend exclaimed, suddenly, “let us go back; here comes one of our most popular phenomena, a London fog. We need not stay in the Park to observe it.”