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Updated: May 23, 2025
'Oh, it's on your account, is it? he grumbled, but the edge had gone out of his ill-humour. 'I suppose you have to keep up with politics or you couldn't keep the ball rolling as you did last night? 'Yes, said Vida, with an innocent air. 'It is well known what superhuman efforts we have to make before we can qualify ourselves to talk to men. 'Hm! grumbled Fox-Moore.
Fox-Moore detained the pamphlet-seller to point out a painfully thin, eager little figure sitting on the ledge of the plinth and looking down with anxious eyes at the crowd 'is that one of them? 'Oh, yes. I thought everybody knew her. That's Miss Mary O'Brian. She spoke the name with an accent of such protecting tenderness that Vida asked
"It's so dreadful," I said, "to see a fresh young girl tied to a worn-out old man." 'Oh! remarked Lady Whyteleafe, genuinely shocked. 'And you said that to Mrs. Freddy nodded with melancholy significance. 'Even when Vida said, "It seems to do well enough sometimes," still I never never remembered the Fox-Moore story!
I want to hold my nose and hide my eyes, and call for the motor-car. Running away isn't fast enough, she said, with energy and a sudden spark in her golden-brown eye. Mrs. Fox-Moore poised the fat silver jug over her own belated cup, and waited for the thick cream to come out in a slow and grudging gobbet with a heavy plump into the coffee.
Fox-Moore was in the corner by the pierced screen, not talking to any one, but, on the contrary, staring dark-visaged, gloomy, sibylline, at a leaflet advertising a charity concert, a document conspicuously left by Mrs. Freddy on a little table. On her way to rescue Mrs. Fox-Moore from her desert island of utter loneliness, Mrs.
Fox-Moore was setting out to alleviate the lot of the poor in Whitechapel. 'Even if it were not Friday, Vida said slyly as her sister was preparing to leave the house, 'you'd invent some errand to take you out of the contaminated air of Queen Anne's Gate this afternoon. 'Well, as I told you, said the other woman, nervously, 'you ask that person here on your own responsibility. Vida smiled.
'Here's the hot milk, said Vida. 'Now we'll have some more coffee. 'Are you coming with me to-day? Mrs. Fox-Moore asked quite cheerfully for her as the servant shut the door. 'Oh, is this Friday?
'Stand in front, Janet, said Miss Levering, hastily recovering herself. 'I don't mind smoke, she said mendaciously, trying to appease the defiler of the air with a little smile. Indeed, the idea of Mrs. Fox-Moore having come to 'awsk' this person for a vote was sufficiently quaint. 'This is the sort of thing they mean, I suppose, said that lady, 'when they talk about cockney humour.
Many of the boys and young men were smoking cigarettes. Some of the older men had pipes. Mrs. Fox-Moore commented on the inferior taste in tobacco as shown by the lower orders. But she, too, kept her eyes glued to the figures up there on the plinth.
That's all! Wherewith she departed to succour women and children at long range in the good old way. Little Doris was ill in bed. Mr. Fox-Moore was understood to have joined his brother's coaching party. The time had been discreetly chosen the coast was indubitably clear. But would it remain so? To insure that it should, Miss Levering had a private conference with the butler.
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