"Your father—poor imbecile!—believes we ran away together. Something drew you. ‘Hilary!’ The captain appeared, alert at the note in his major’s voice as Gerald had known he would be. A long shrill cat-call in the gallery seemed to be the signal. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. What brings you here?” “I’m here to see my uncle. ‘Knowed it the instant I set eyes on her. The cloth nearly touches the floor.
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