He wanted to do the right thing; he was
even anxious about it. He determined that he would do his very best to
bridge over that yawning gulf. The gingerbread villa he absolutely
could not face, so he met them at the Leicester Square Tube.
The moment they arrived, his heart sank. They stepped out of the lift
and looked around them. Ellen's hat seemed larger than ever, and was
ornate with violent-colored flowers. Her face was hidden behind a
violet veil, and she wore a white feather boa, fragments of which
reposed upon the lift man's shoulder and little Alfred's knickerbockers.
Her dress was of black velveteen, fitting a little tightly over her
corsets, and showing several imperfectly removed stains and creases.
She wore tan shoes, one of which was down at the heel, and
primrose-colored gloves. Alfred wore his usual black Sunday suit, a
lace collar around his neck about a foot wide, a straw hat on the ribbon
of which was printed the name of one of His Majesty's battleships, and a
curl plastered upon his forehead very much in the style of Burton
himself in earlier days. Directly he saw his father, he put his finger
in his mouth and seemed inclined to howl. Ellen raised her veil and
pushed him forward.
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