“I propose,” Sir John said, “that we pay for our dinner—which we haven’t had— tip the garçon a sovereign, and take a cab to the Ritz. All sorts of battered tramps, junks and riff-raff of the seas trailed in and out. She was aware of people—her aunt, her father, her fellow-students, friends, and neighbors— moving about outside this glowing secret, very much as an actor is aware of the dim audience beyond the barrier of the footlights. ‘What do you say of these troops?’ ‘You see, we’re militia. Happened to be at the Chariot, you know, with Trodger, and it’s review day.
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