r if I had imitated their example; I mean this
morning; of course I wouldn't have missed this evening for anything
whatever. But somehow, one feels it a sort of duty to see something of
these great public holidays. I caught a glimpse of the procession. In
its way it was imposing--yes, really. After all, the Monarchy is a great
_fact_--as Gurty would have said. I like to keep my mind open to facts.'

The sun had set, and with approach of dusk the crowds grew denser. Nancy
proposed a return westwards; the clubs of Pall Mall and of St James's
Street would make a display worth seeing, and they must not miss
Piccadilly.

'A little later,' said their escort, with an air of liberality, 'we
must think of some light refreshment. We shall be passing a respectable
restaurant, no doubt.'

Twilight began to obscure the distance. Here and there a house-front
slowly marked itself with points of flame, shaping to wreath, festoon,
or initials of Royalty. Nancy looked eagerly about her, impatient for
the dark, wishing the throng would sweep her away. In Pall Mall, Barmby
felt it incumbent upon him to name the several clubs, a task for which
he was inadequately prepared. As he stood staring in doubt at one of the
coldly insolent facades, Jessica gazing in the same direction, Nancy
saw that her moment had come. She darted off, struggled through a moving
crowd, and reached the opposite pavement. All she had now to do was to
press onward with the people around her; save by chance, she could not
possibly be discovered.

Alarm at her daring troubled her for a few minutes. As a matter of
course Barmby would report this incident to her father,--unless she
plainly asked him not to do so, for which she had no mind. Yet what did
it matter? She had escaped to enjoy herself, and the sense of freedom
soon overcame anxieties. No one observed her solitary state; she was one
of millions walking about the streets because it was Jubilee Day, and
every moment packed her more tightly among the tramping populace. A
procession, this, greatly more significant than that of Royal personages
earlier in the day. Along the main thoroughfares of mid-London,
wheel-traffic was now suspended; between the houses moved a double
current of humanity, this way and that, filling the whole space, so
that no vehicle could possibly have made its way on the wonted track.
At junctions, pickets of police directed progress; the slowly advancing
masses wheeled to left or right at