her spirits fallen, leaving her to brood over the sea, than the pinch was repeated.
Again she turned sharply and this time there could be no mistake. It was the kindly old gentleman in the Homburg hat who had pinched her. She gave him an indignant glance, but not so indignant as it would have been if Alf and 'Arry had been nearer than Bayswater. He lifted his hat calmly and said, "Good evening, ma'am, it's a fine evening."
Her instinct told her at once that this was not a gentleman of Mr. Blundon's elegance. His clothes were rich but his manner and spirit were those which she understood.
"I've seen finer," she replied with some tartness, resolved not to give in too easily.
He was really a fine looking old gentleman, about seventy, she thought, with a fine ruddy face and a chin beard that was white and cut short and round. On his black waistcoat glittered a massive gold watch-chain. He had bland round blue eyes and an air of good humor. He asked her if she was alone.
"Not exactly," said Bessie. "I'm wyting for a friend."
Would she mind if he chatted a bit until her friend came? No, she said, but she'd have to stay there by the fifth light because that was where she was going to meet her friend.
"Nice music," he said.
"Yes, nice music."
"I've always liked Pomp and Circumstance. It's like the British Empire."
"You must be musical," she suggested.
"I like music."
