Phaethon, who
for some time had been endeavouring to kiss Persephone, had just
succeeded.
A little scene ensued, which, as Miss Bartlett said afterwards,
was most unpleasant. The horses were stopped, the lovers were
ordered to disentangle themselves, the boy was to lose his
pourboire, the girl was immediately to get down.
"She is my sister," said he, turning round on them with piteous
eyes.
Mr. Eager took the trouble to tell him that he was a liar.
Phaethon hung down his head, not at the matter of the accusation,
but at its manner. At this point Mr. Emerson, whom the shock of
stopping had awoke, declared that the lovers must on no account
be separated, and patted them on the back to signify his
approval. And Miss Lavish, though unwilling to ally him, felt
bound to support the cause of Bohemianism.
"Most certainly I would let them be," she cried. "But I dare say
I shall receive scant support. I have always flown in the face of
the conventions all my life. This is what I call an adventure.
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