“Will you come in, Sir John. Occasionally the mere fact of lying in bed became unendurable, and she rolled out and marched about her room and whispered abuse of herself—usually until she hit against some article of furniture. Were I a painter of subject pictures, I would exhaust all my skill in proportion and perspective and atmosphere upon the august seat of empire, I would present it gray and dignified and immense and respectable beyond any mere verbal description, and then, in vivid black and very small, I would put in those valiantly impertinent vans, squatting at the base of its altitudes and pouring out a swift, straggling rush of ominous little black objects, minute figures of determined women at war with the universe. Would you like to borrow some of my clothes? I think we're about the same size. She was not very clear about the position and duties of a chorus-girl, but it certainly had the air of being a last desperate resort. Why ain’t you gorn? Seems to me I had ought to arrest you. "I call this ere crib the Little-Ease, arter the runaway prentices' cells in Guildhall. Everything. ’ ‘But what do you want it for, miss?’ ‘But to protect myself. Vaguely she heard the distinctive sound of male voices as she saw Gosse dive towards the fateful pew.
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