did everyone emerge out of that melancholy booth into the sunshine,
the brightness and the noise.

"Lud! but she do give me the creeps," said Mistress Polly, the pretty
barmaid from the Bell Inn, down by the river. "And I must say that I
don't see why we English folk should send our hard-earned pennies to
those murdering ruffians over the water. Bein' starving so to speak,
don't make a murderer a better man if he goes on murdering," she
added with undisputable if ungrammatical logic. "Come, let's look at
something more cheerful now."

And without waiting for anyone else's assent, she turned towards the
more lively portion of the grounds, closely followed by a ruddy-
faced, somewhat sheepish-looking youth, who very obviously was her
attendant swain.

It was getting on for three o-clock now, and the quality were
beginning to arrive. Lord Anthony Dewhurst was already there,
chucking every pretty girl under the chin, to the annoyance of her
beau. Ladies were arriving all the time, and the humbler feminine
hearts were constantly set a-flutter at sight of rich brocaded gowns,
and the new Charlottes, all crinkled velvet and soft marabout, which
were so becoming to the pretty faces beneath.

There was incessant and loud talking and chattering, with here and
there the shriller tones of a French voice being distinctly noticeable in
the din. There were a good many French ladies and gentlemen
present, easily recognisable, even in the distance, for their clothes
were of more sober hue and of lesser richness than those of their
English compeers.