” Again on his way homeward from Cavendish Square he abandoned the direct route to pass by the door of Anna’s flat. ’ While he trod a deliberate path through the pink saloon towards the door, Gerald encouraged a flow of harmless chatter about the people Madame had met and the parties she had attended. A full-curled wig descended half-way down his back and shoulders; a neckcloth of "right Mechlin" was twisted round his throat so tightly as almost to deprive him of breath, and threaten him with apoplexy; he had lace, also, at his wrists and bosom; gold clocks to his hose, and red heels to his shoes. There was once a philanthropist who dressed with shameful shabbiness and carried pearls in his pocket.
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