d of it than he had been while thinking about it in the
vestibule of the Majestic. It was not larger than the Majestic; it was
perhaps smaller; it could not show more terra-cotta, plate-glass and
sculptured cornice than the Majestic. But it had a demeanour ... and
it was in a square which had a demeanour.... In every window-sill--not
only of the hotel, but of nearly every mighty house in the
Square--there were boxes of bright blooming flowers. These he could
plainly distinguish in the October dusk, and they were a wonderful
phenomenon--say what you will about the mildness of that particular
October! A sublime tranquillity reigned over the scene. A liveried
keeper was locking the gate of the garden in the middle of the Square
as if potentates had just quitted it and rendered it for ever sacred.
And between the sacred shadowed grove and the inscrutable fronts
of the stately houses there flitted automobiles of the silent and
expensive kind, driven by chauffeurs in pale grey or dark purple, who
reclined as they steered, and who were supported on their left
sides by footmen who reclined as they contemplated the grandeur of
existence.

Edward Henry's taxi-cab in that Square seemed like a homeless cat that
had strayed into a dog-show.

At the exact instant, when the taxi-cab came to rest under the massive
portico of Wilkins's, a chamberlain in white gloves bravely soiled
the gloves by seizing the vile brass handle of its door. He bowed to
Edward Henry and assisted him to alight on to a crimson carpet.
The driver of the taxi glanced with pert and candid scorn at the
chamberlain, but Edward Henry looked demurely aside, and then in
abstraction mounted the broad carpeted steps.

"What about poor little me?" cried the driver, who was evidently a
ribald socialist, or at best a republican.

The chamberlain, pained, glanced at Edward Henry for support and
direction in this crisis.

"Didn't I tell you I'd keep you?" said Edward Henry, raised now by the
steps above the driver.

"Between you and me, you didn't," said the driver.

The chamberlain, with an ineffable gesture, wafted the taxi-cab away
into some limbo appointed for waiting vehicles.

A page opened a pair of doors, and another page opened another pair of
doors, each with eighteen century ceremonies of deference, and Edward
Henry stood at length in the hall of Wilkins's. The sanctuary, then,
was successfully defiled, and up to the present nobody had demanded
his cred