He was accompanied by a young man of about seven-and-twenty, who carried his easel, set it in its place, laid the canvass upon it, opened the paint box, took out the brushes and palette, and, in short, paid him the most assiduous attention. Cocked hats and buckled swords spoke of rank. “And how did you find us here?” “I called at Montague Street a few minutes after you had left. It worked. She was always the last person to exit after the crowds had stampeded, trailing slowly behind them like dust. She allowed herself to be ejected, therefore, and retired to the parlour after cleansing the blood from her hands and her own slight wound in the kitchen.
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