" "It is not Jack's voice," rejoined Mrs. Were I a painter of subject pictures, I would exhaust all my skill in proportion and perspective and atmosphere upon the august seat of empire, I would present it gray and dignified and immense and respectable beyond any mere verbal description, and then, in vivid black and very small, I would put in those valiantly impertinent vans, squatting at the base of its altitudes and pouring out a swift, straggling rush of ominous little black objects, minute figures of determined women at war with the universe. As she averted her gaze, a terrible idea crossed her. But once he had steered the lady down the hall and along a passage to a window seat at the end, he abandoned the subject of society. I did it in self-defence. This obstacle, which appeared to preclude the possibility of egress in that quarter, was speedily got rid of. ’ He held his hands out of the way, surrendering his chest for her assault. She screamed at Sebastian.
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