"Why, so it is," she said, in mock astonishment. He came over to me. ’ Mrs Sindlesham’s lips twitched. She didn’t like the shops, she didn’t like the other women’s faces; she thought the smirking men in frock-coats who dominated these establishments the most intolerable persons she had ever had to face. Aware of the footman hovering, and the hackney coachman’s curious eyes looking down from his box, Gerald leaned a little towards her and spoke in a lowered tone. Their soft, voluptuous bodies wove among each other to the faint notes of a lyre. I next proceeded to Jenny Bunch's, the Ship, in Trig Lane—there I got the same answer.
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