[_Mr. F., seeing that explanation is useless, lets himself
out again, precipitately, dodges the Policeman, and bolts,
favoured by the fog, until all danger of pursuit is passed,
at the end of which time he suddenly realises that it is
perfectly hopeless to attempt to find his own carriage
again. He gropes his way home, and some hours later, after
an extemporised cold supper, is rejoined by his Wife._

_Mrs. F._ (_cheerfully_). So there you are, MARMADUKE! I wasn't
anxious--I felt sure you'd find your way back somehow!

_Mr. F._ (_not in the best of tempers_). Find my way back! It was the
only thing I could do. But where have _you_ been all this time, FANNY?

_Mrs. F._ Where? Why, at the BLEWITTS, to be sure! You see, after you
got out, we had to keep moving on, and by-and-by the fog got better,
and we could see where we were going to,--and the BLEWITTS had put
off dinner half an hour, so I was not so _very_ late. Such a _nice_
dinner! Everybody turned up except _you_, MARMADUKE--but I _told_ them
how it was. Oh, and old Lady HOREHOUND was there, and said a man had
actually got into her brougham, and tried to wrench off one of her
bracelets!--only she spoke to him so severely that he was struck with
remorse, or something, and got out again! And it was by the Park,
_close_ to where you left me. Just fancy, MARMADUKE, he might have got
into the carriage with _me_, instead!

_Mr. F._ (_gloomily_). Yes, he _might_--only, he--er--_didn't_, you
know!