"Yes, please, a hansom," said Lady Enid Thistle, some five minutes
later, as she and the Prophet stood together upon the kerb in front of
the rabbit shop. "I feel much better now."
The Prophet hailed a hansom and handed her into it.
"Which way are you going?" he asked.
Lady Enid looked doubtful.
"I ought to be going back to Jellybrand's," she said. "I had an
appointment. But really--you see Mr. Sagittarius is there, and
altogether--I don't know."
She was obviously still upset by the "creaming foam," and the other
incidents of the afternoon.
"Come to tea with grannie," said the Prophet.
"She's at home?"
"Yes. She's twisted her ankle."
"Oh, I'm so sorry."
"Let me escort you."
"Thanks. I think I will."
"You won't mind stopping for a moment at Hollings's?" said the Prophet,
in Piccadilly Circus. "I promised to buy some roses. Somebody is coming
in to tea."
"On, no. But who is it?"
"I don't know. Only one person, I think. An old friend, no doubt.
Probably the Central American Ambassador's grandfather."
"Oh, if that's all! I feel a little shaky still."
"Naturally."
The Prophet bought the roses and they drove on.
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