She was curious to know why he had boarded a dingy train instead of hailing a cab or his own private chauffeur like the others in expensive suits were doing. "He is," replied a portly personage, arrayed in a gorgeous yellow brocade dressing-gown, lined with cherry-coloured satin, and having a crimson velvet cap, surmounted by a gold tassel, on his head. She was alarmed at how little her husband Gianfrancesco packed for the trip, leaving behind his best scarlet and black lucco, which he wore for every business and political meeting. ’ He held his hands out of the way, surrendering his chest for her assault. So I introduced him to my father-in-law like a shot. And here you are!” Her aunt opened all the fingers of her gloved hand in a rhetorical gesture. His head was small and bullet-shaped, and he did not wear a wig, but had his sleek black hair cut off closely round his temples. The comments on the makeover lessened but were replaced by long admiring glances by boys who had never before given her the time of day. Nor can we. Bribble’s rendering of the service —he had the sort of voice that brings out things—and was still teeming with ideas about it when finally a wild outburst from the organ made it clear that, whatever snivelling there might be down in the chancel, that excellent wind instrument was, in its Mendelssohnian way, as glad as ever it could be.
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