“I must, I will—you shall allow me,” and he began to play with her hand and ruffle up the lace that covered her round arm.
Just then his man Benson, looking hot and excited, came up to him with a message. Glory overheard something about “the office,” “the Secretary,” and “Scotland Yard.” Then Drake turned to her with a smile, over a look of vexation, and said: “I'm sorry, dear—very—I must go away for a while. Will you stay here until I return, or——”
“Take me out and put me in a cab,” said Glory. Their getting up attracted attention, and Lord Robert said:
“Is it, perhaps, something about that——”
“It's nothing,” said Drake, and they left the room.
The band in the ballroom was still playing the dance out of the burlesque, and half a hundred voices were shouting “Tra-la-la-la” as Glory stepped into a hansom.
“I'll follow on, though,” whispered Drake with a merry smile.
“We shall all be in bed, and the house locked up—— How magnificent you were to-night!”
“I couldn't see the man trodden on when he was down—— But how lovely you've looked to-day, Glory! I'll get in to-night if I have to ring up Liza or break down the door for it!”
As the cab crossed Trafalgar Square it had to draw up for a procession of people coming up Parliament Street singing hymns. Another and more disorderly procession of people, decorated with oak leaves and hawthorns and singing a music-hall song, came up and collided with it. A line of police broke up both processions; and the hansom passed through.