at that moment, saw him go. Engrossed in thought of Nancy, Samuel
did not yet perceive that her brother had vanished.

'Your friend isn't coming any further?' he said, in a tone of
forbearance.

'No.'

'But where's Mr. Lord?' exclaimed Jessica.

Nancy pretended to look back for him, and for a minute or two they
waited. Barmby, glad to be delivered from both male companions, made
light of the matter; Horace could take care of himself; they had the
appointment for a quarter to eleven;--on! And he now fixed himself
resolutely at Nancy's side.

She, delighted with the success of her stratagem, and careless of
what might result from it, behaved more companionably. To Luckworth
Crewe's society she had no objection; indeed, she rather liked him;
but his presence would have hindered the escape for which she was
preparing. Poor Jessica might feel it something of a hardship to
pass hours alone with 'the Prophet,' but that could not be helped.
Nancy would be free to-night, if never again. They turned into the
Strand, and Barmby voiced his opinion of the public decorations.

'There's very little of what can be called Art,--very little
indeed. I'm afraid we haven't made much progress in Art.--Now what
would Ruskin say to this kind of thing? The popular taste wants
educating. My idea is that we ought to get a few leading men Burne
Jones and--and William Morris--and people of that kind, you