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at me with an inviting leer, he directed his steps towards a neighbouring Vespasienne.
"'What is there so peculiar about me?' I mused, 'that the fellow is ogling me in that way?'
"Without turning round, however, or noticing him any further, I walked on, my eyes fixed on Teleny.
"As I passed by another bench, some one again scraped his feet and cleared his throat, evidently bent on making me turn my head. I did so. There was nothing more remarkable about him than there is in the first man you meet. Seeing me look at him, he either unbuttoned or buttoned up his trousers.
"After a while I again heard steps coming from behind; the person was close up to me. I smelt a strong scent—if the noxious odour of musk or of patchouli can be called a scent.
"The person touched me slightly as he passed by. He begged my pardon; it was the man of the velvet jacket, or his Dromio. I looked at him as he again stared at me and grinned. His eyes were painted with khol, his cheeks were
