Aubrey had persuaded him to buy a magnificent fur-coat at the Hague.

He had lived in it ever since, feeling gorgeous and cosy.

Aubrey's ideas of spending money suited him better than Helen's.
His taxi glided rapidly along the greasy Embankment.

Once it skidded on the tramlines, and Ronnie laid a steadying hand upon the 'cello.
The grey old Thames went rolling by--mighty, resistless, perpetually useful--right through the heart of busy London.
Ronnie thought of the well-meaning preacher who pointed out to his congregation, as an instance of the wonderful over-rulings of an All-wise Providence, the fact that large rivers flowed through great cities, and small streams through little villages! Ronnie laughed very much at the recollection of this story, and tried to remember whether he had ever told it to Helen.
Arrived at his club he shaved, tubbed, changed his clothes, and, leaving his 'cello in charge of the hall porter, sallied out with his manuscript to call upon his publisher.
In his portmanteau he had found Dr.Dick's bottle of stuff to take on the journey.

Aubrey had persuaded him to pack it away.