u know. London's as dead as a stock-fish.
Nothing but the scrapings to offer you. But the weather's fine: I flatter
myself you'll find the company agreeable, What says my friend Feverel?"

Richard begged to be excused.

"No, no: positively you must come," said the Hon. Peter. "I've had some
trouble to get them together to relieve the dulness of your
incarceration. Richmond's within the rules of your prison. You can be
back by night. Moonlight on the water--lovely woman. We've engaged a
city-barge to pull us back. Eight oars--I'm not sure it isn't sixteen.
Come--the word!"

Adrian was for going. Richard said he had an appointment with Ripton.

"You're in for another rick, you two," said Adrian. "Arrange that we go.
You haven't seen the cockney's Paradise. Abjure Blazes, and taste of
peace, my son."

After some persuasion, Richard yawned wearily, and got up, and threw
aside the care that was on him, saying, "Very well. Just as you like.
We'll take old Rip with us."

Adrian consulted Brayder's eye at this. The Hon. Peter briskly declared
he should be delighted to have Feverel's friend, and offered to take them
all down in his drag.

"If you don't get a match on to swim there with the tide--eh, Feverel, my
boy?"

Richard replied that he had given up that sort of thing, at which Brayder
communicated a queer glance to Adrian, and applauded the youth.

Richmond was under a still October sun. The pleasant landscape, bathed in
Autumn, stretched from the foot of the hill to a red horizon haze. The
day was like none that Richard vividly remembered. It touched no link in
the chain of his recollection. It was quiet, and belonged to the spirit
of the season.

Adrian had divined the character of the scrapings they were to meet.
Brayder introduced them to one or two of the men, hastily and in rather
an undervoice, as a thing to get over. They made their bow to the first
knot of ladies they encountered. Propriety was observed strictly, even to
severity. The general talk was of the weather. Here and there a lady
would seize a button-hole or any little bit of the habiliments, of the
man she was addressing; and if it came to her to chide him, she did it
with more than a forefinger. This, however, was only here and there, and
a privilege of intimacy.

Where ladies are gathered together, the Queen of the assemblage may be
known by her Court of males. The Queen of the present gathering leaned
against a corner of the open window,