The Victorians over-did it a little, I admit. “Lady Mackinnor,” she said, “I am sure that you must have heard of Mr. Who’s for a rubber of whist?” Ennison made so many mistakes that he was glad to cut out early in the evening. While he was thus occupied, Thames, prompted by an unaccountable feeling of curiosity, took up the penknife which the other had just used, and examined the haft. As far as I can, I belong to them all. Will you let your servant call me a hansom,” she continued, opening the door before he could reach her side. His gangling body was clothed in rusty twill trousers and a long black seersucker coat, buttoned to the throat, around which ran a collar which would have marked him the world over as a man of the Word.
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