'We met her sisters, and had some lunch at a restaurant. Look here;
you don't want me to-night. You won't mind if I get lost in the
crowd? Barmby will be quite enough to take care of you.'

'You are going to meet her again, I suppose?'

Horace nodded.

'We had better agree on a rendezvous at a certain time. I say,
Barmby, just a moment; if any of us should get separated, we had
better know where to meet, for coming home.'

'Oh, there's no fear of that.'

'All the same, it _might_ happen. There'll be a tremendous crush,
you know. Suppose we say the place where the trams stop, south of
Westminster Bridge, and the time a quarter to eleven?'

This was agreed upon.

At Camberwell Green they mingled with a confused rush of hilarious
crowds, amid a clattering of cabs and omnibuses, a jingling of
tram-car bells. Public-houses sent forth their alcoholic odours upon
the hot air. Samuel Barmby, joyous in his protectorship of two young
ladies, for he regarded Horace as a mere boy, bustled about them
whilst they stood waiting for the arrival of the Westminster car.

'It'll have to be a gallant rush! You would rather be outside,
wouldn't you, Miss. Lord? Here it comes: charge!'