“Where was I? Oh! Lucinda. I know that her bronchial attacks last half through the winter, so I pulled her away out of the crowd. It was a bitterly cold day.
“We walked off. She drew up the collar of her coat. I said that it had been foolish of us to stand about in the cold and risk bronchitis, with the Wigans’ fancy-dress ball coming on.
“‘I don’t care a bit about the ball,’ she said. ‘I’m not going.’
“‘Not care! not going! But your dress? You’ve bought the silk. It cost a pretty penny.’
“‘Brocade. Twelve and six a yard,’ she groaned.
“‘It seemed to me a little stiff. But so long as you are happy——’
“‘Happy! Did you hear what he said? It is dreadful.’
“‘Awful. The police ought to put a stop to——’
“It was Lucinda who stopped—on the edge of the Serpentine.
“‘Do you know what you are saying?’ she demanded.