y: how he
had come upon poor old Jackson combing his moustache before the glass
in the office, little expecting his descent, had put him through such
a morning's work as seldom came his way; then treated him to a lunch of
champagne and ortolans; paid a call upon Mrs. Jackson, who was fatter
than ever, poor woman, but asked kindly after Rachel--and O Lord, little
Jackson had confessed to a confounded piece of weakness--well, well, no
harm was done, he supposed, but what was the use of his giving orders if
they were promptly disobeyed? He had said distinctly that he would take
no passengers on this trip. Here he began searching in his pockets and
eventually discovered a card, which he planked down on the table before
Rachel. On it she read, "Mr. and Mrs. Richard Dalloway, 23 Browne
Street, Mayfair."

"Mr. Richard Dalloway," continued Vinrace, "seems to be a gentleman who
thinks that because he was once a member of Parliament, and his wife's
the daughter of a peer, they can have what they like for the asking.
They got round poor little Jackson anyhow. Said they must have
passages--produced a letter from Lord Glenaway, asking me as a personal
favour--overruled any objections Jackson made (I don't believe they came
to much), and so there's nothing for it but to submit, I suppose."

But it was evident that for some reason or other Willoughby was quite
pleased to submit, although he made a show of growling.

The truth was that Mr. and Mrs. Dalloway had found themselves stranded
in Lisbon. They had been travelling on the Continent for some weeks,
chiefly with a view to broadening Mr. Dalloway's mind. Unable for a
season, by one of the accidents of political life, to serve his country
in Parliament, Mr. Dalloway was doing the best he could to serve it
out of Parliament. For that purpose the Latin countries did very well,
although the East, of course, would have done better.

"Expect to hear of me next in Petersburg or Teheran," he had said,
turning to wave farewell from the steps of the Travellers'. But a
disease had broken out in the East, there was cholera in Russia, and
he was heard of, not so romantically, in Lisbon. They had been through
France; he had stopped at manufacturing centres where, producing letters
of introduction, he had been shown over works, and noted facts in a
pocket-book. In Spain he and Mrs. Dalloway had mounted mules, for they
wished to understand how the peasants live. Are they ripe for rebellion,
fo