The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. She had all the fascination of being absolutely perplexing in this respect. Soldiers were stationed at different points of the street to keep off the mob, and others were riding backwards and forwards to maintain an open space for the passage of the procession. But it was now too late to turn back, and, nerving himself for the shock he expected to encounter, he ventured after his conductor. Crossing several fields, newly mown, or filled with lines of tedded hay, she arrived, not without great exertion, at the summit of a hill. And he hazarded a wink at the poet over the paper on which he was sketching. Look here.
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