his total
disarmament, he regained the wits we forfeit when we engage her. He said
to his friend Chummy: 'Abrane tomorrow? Ah, yes, punts a Thames waterman.
Start of--how many yards? Sunbury-Walton: good reach. Course of two
miles: Braney in good training. Straight business? I mayn't be there. But
you, Chummy, you mind, old Chums, all cases of the kind, safest back the
professional. Unless--you understand!'

Fleetwood could not persuade Gower to join the party. The philosopher's
pretext of much occupation masked a bashfully sentimental dislike of the
flooding of quiet country places by the city's hordes. 'You're right,
right,' said Fleetwood, in sympathy, resigned to the prospect of
despising his associates without a handy helper. He named Esslemont once,
shot up a look at the sky, and glanced it Eastward.

Three coaches were bound for Sunbury from a common starting-point at nine
of the morning. Lord Fleetwood, Lord Brailstone, and Lord Simon Pitscrew
were the whips. Two hours in advance of them, the earl's famous purveyors
of picnic feasts bowled along to pitch the riverside tent and spread the
tables. Our upper and lower London world reported the earl as out on
another of his expeditions: and, say what we will, we must think kindly
of a wealthy nobleman ever to the front to enliven the town's dusty eyes
and increase Old England's reputation for pre-eminence in the Sports.

He is the husband of the Whitechapel Countess--got himself into that
mess; but whatever he does, he puts the stamp of style on it. He and the
thing he sets his hand to, they're neat, they're finished, they're fitted
to trot together, and they've a shining polish, natural, like a lily of
the fields; or say Nature and Art, like the coat of a thoroughbred led
into the paddock by his groom, if you're of that mind.

Present at the start in Piccadilly, Gower took note of Lord Fleetwood's
military promptitude to do the work he had no taste for, and envied the
self-compression which could assume so pleasant an air. He heard here and
there crisp comments on his lordship's coach and horses and personal
smartness; the word 'style,' which reflects handsomely on the connoisseur
conferring it, and the question whether one of the ladies up there was
the countess. His task of unearthing and disentangling the monetary
affairs of 'one of the ladies' compelled the wish to belong to the party
soon to be towering out of the grasp of bricks, and delightfully gay,
spir