“I have come from a very unfashionable quarter,” she said, “and I do not think that I have been inside a milliner’s shop for a year. He smiled. “Too late, my dear girl,” she exclaimed. But that was soon put right, and she walked out into London with a peculiar exaltation of mind, an exaltation that partook of panic and defiance, but was chiefly a sense of vast unexampled release. She met his older brother and played another short violin recital, much to the delight of 178 John’s immediate family. His face was half hidden under a freshly pipeclayed sola topee—sun-helmet.
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