I didn't know you cared for processions, Arch-deacon----"
"I don't," said Brandon. "I hadn't realised that there was a procession.
Stupidly, I had forgotten----"
"Well, well," came the good-natured voice of Mr. Hogg. "It'll do us no
harm, Archdeacon--no harm at all. I forget whether you rightly know my
little girl. This is Annie--come out to see the procession with her
father."
The Archdeacon was compelled to shake hands. He did it very graciously.
She was certainly a fine girl--tall, strong, full-breasted, with dark
colour and raven black hair; curious, her eyes, very large and bright.
They stared full at you, but past you, as though they had decided that you
were of insufficient interest.
Annie thus gazed at the Archdeacon and said no word. Any further
intimacies were prevented by approach of the procession. To the present
generation Marquis' Circus would not appear, I suppose, very wonderful. To
many of us, thirty years ago, it seemed the final expression of Oriental
splendour and display.
There were murmurs and cries of "Here they come! Here they come! 'Ere they
be!" Every one pressed forward; Mr.
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