The little man laid his hand on the young man's arm and held him back.
Hanbury looked down at the dwarf in anger and glanced quickly at the girl.
"My grand-daughter, Miss Grace--Mr. John Hanbury, whose speeches I have often asked you to read for me, Edith."
Hanbury fell back a pace and bowed mechanically like one in a dream. He looked from the dwarf to the girl and from the girl to the dwarf, but could find no word to say, had no desire to say a word. He was completely overcome by amazement. The presence of five thousand people, with eyes fixed in expectation upon him, would have acted as a powerful stimulant to composed exaltation, but the presence of this one girl half stunned him.
He was dimly conscious of sitting down and hearing a long explanation about trains and disinclination to leave home and regrets and cabs, but nothing of it conveyed a clear idea to his mind. He gathered vaguely that this girl, who was one of the Graces of Gracedieu in Derbyshire, had arrived in London that morning without ticket or money, and the dwarf happened providentially to be in the same train and paid the fare for her.
What he heard left little or no impression upon him except when she spoke. All his attention was fixed in wondering regard upon her face and form.
It was not until Leigh and he were in the street once more that he recovered from the shock and surprise.
"That is the most marvellous thing I ever saw in all my life," said he, as the two walked away.
"Yes," said Leigh, "the most marvellous."
"I can scarcely believe it even yet," said Hanbury in a tone of reverie.