I think we must have a hansom.' Father and son still lived together, in the same house as formerly.
After a brief stretch of pavement, they hailed a conveyance.
'Going to St.James's Hall, I suppose ?' Mr.Athel asked, as they drove on.
Wilfrid gave an affirmative.
'Is it the last time ?' The other laughed.
'I can't say.

I fear it troubles you.' Mr.Athel had, we know, long passed the time when the ardours of youth put him above the prejudices of the solid Englishman.

When it was first announced to him that Beatrice was going to sing on a public platform, he screwed up his lips as if something acid had fallen upon them; he scarcely credited the story till his own eyes saw the girl's name in print.

'What the deuce!' was his exclamation.

'It would be all very well if she had to do it for her living, but she certainly owes it to her friends to preserve the decencies as long as there is no need to violate them.' The reasons advanced he utterly refused to weigh.