If the others were the daughters of earls, this was the authentic countess in a tea-gown.
He put down Leek's sovereign.
"Haven't you anything smaller ?" snapped the countess.
"I'm sorry I haven't," he replied.
She picked up the sovereign scornfully, and turned it over.
"It's very awkward," she muttered.
Then she unlocked two drawers, and unwillingly gave him eighteen and sixpence in silver and copper, without another word and without looking at him.
"Thank you," said he, pocketing it nervously.
And, amid reiterated cries of "Mathah!" "Mathaw!" "Mathah!" he hurried away, unregarded, unregretted, splendidly repudiated by these delicate refined creatures who were struggling for a livelihood in a great city.
_Alice Challice_ "I suppose you are Mr.Leek, aren't you ?" a woman greeted him as he stood vaguely hesitant outside St.George's Hall, watching the afternoon audience emerge.

He started back, as though the woman with her trace of Cockney accent had presented a revolver at his head.

He was very much afraid.

It may reasonably be asked what he was doing up at St.George's Hall.

The answer to this most natural question touches the deepest springs of human conduct.