And he further reflected, with an amused chuckle, that she would be
vividly reminded of Comus for days to come, when she took her
afternoon tea, and saw the bread-and-butter reposing in an
unaccustomed dish.



CHAPTER VII



Towards four o'clock on a hot afternoon Francesca stepped out from
a shop entrance near the Piccadilly end of Bond Street and ran
almost into the arms of Merla Blathlington. The afternoon seemed
to get instantly hotter. Merla was one of those human flies that
buzz; in crowded streets, at bazaars and in warm weather, she
attained to the proportions of a human bluebottle. Lady Caroline
Benaresq had openly predicted that a special fly-paper was being
reserved for her accommodation in another world; others, however,
held the opinion that she would be miraculously multiplied in a
future state, and that four or more Merla Blathlingtons, according
to deserts, would be in perpetual and unremitting attendance on
each lost soul.

"Here we are," she cried, with a glad eager buzz, "popping in and
out of shops like rabbits; not that rabbits do pop in and out of
shops very extensively."

It was evidently one of her bluebottle days.