“He is addressing a meeting of his constituents somewhere,” Annabel answered. Darting down Field-lane, Jack struck into a labyrinth of streets on the left; but though he ran as swiftly as he could, he was not unperceived. His gangling body was clothed in rusty twill trousers and a long black seersucker coat, buttoned to the throat, around which ran a collar which would have marked him the world over as a man of the Word. Still silence everywhere. A nine days’ wonder is soon forgotten. "What is it you want?" she asked, as she held out the coat.
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