Drury, down the steps and round the corner; watch him hail an honest but ill-favored, likewise a dishonest but better favored, motor man. Watch him pack 'em in and give directions, assisted by the unsought attentions of a Distinguished Member of the Great Unwashed.
"Three hundred Eaton Place. Drive slowly."
Oh, Irony!
Seeks to find a small piece of silver for the Great Unwashed. Can discover four pence merely. Tempered gratitude on part of Great Unwashed. A real Toff never condescends beneath a tanner; and if he hasn't got one, why, what's the matter with a bob?
"Time for a game of pills before dinner?" says the heir to the barony.
"'Fraid there won't be time, old boy," says Father. "Letters to attend to."
"Time for a drink at the Betterton, anyhow," says Uncle Philip.
That temple of aristocratic Bohemia, at which monarchs sup and which actor managers frequent, is in such close proximity to Drury, that only plutocracy in its most aggravated form would have called for a taxi in order to get to it. But what can you expect, O ye Liberal organs of opinion, from the heir to a Tory peerage!
