There was an air of repressed gaiety in her actions: the sense of freedom had returned; her heart was empty again. The gentleman appealed to shook his head in reply, coughed as only a Dutchman can cough, and raising his hand from the bowl of his pipe, went through precisely the same mysterious ceremonial as the Master. He came along, he said, just to call, with large, loud apologies, radiantly kind and good. He seemed so clean anyway, his fair 215 skin, his light brown hair, there almost seemed to be no point. With me behaving as if everything was infinitely matter-of-fact, what could he do? And just then Heaven sent old Manningtree—I didn’t tell you before of the fortunate intervention of Manningtree, did I? He was looking quite infernally distinguished, with a wide crimson ribbon across him—what IS a wide crimson ribbon? Some sort of knight, I suppose. Ennison. She came very near that night to resolving that she would return to her home next morning. "What has caused this quarrel, Thames?" asked the little girl, anxiously. In her case the barrier was not selfishness but the perception that her interest would be misinterpreted, naturally. The jolly part of it was that for the first time in her life so far as London was concerned, she was not going anywhere in particular; for the first time in her life it seemed to her she was taking London in.
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