There evidently was more behind feathers and furbelows than our friend Horatio could have known, and London would have to spell the first words of a philosophy which would be drier to them all than that of Plato, Kant or Carlyle. After two more days of keen despair, the same longing for fresh air seized hold of the Upper Ten; though this time bolts were not drawn with that vigour which had given to the first exodus the sound of a salute of musketry. It was more like a distant roll of thunder, forerunner of a clouded atmosphere. The exit from houses was not any more triumphant and didactic, it was slow and cheerless; and had not the air been balmy, the sky blue, citizens would have felt a shiver run down their spine as they realised their abandoned condition. This time Lord Somerville restricted his wanderings to the smart thoroughfares, leaving the mercantile City to its own confusion. He entered restaurants where he had known many of the _habitués_; but he went out of them shocked at not being recognised by any of his friends. Formerly all was so easy; one had but to step out, and one knew exactly who was who by the brim of a hat, the cut of a coat, the handling of a walking-stick; but not even a rude stare could help one now to identify anyone, and nothing could save one from committing a social _faux pas_. He strolled up the Haymarket. How difficult it was to walk in that attire. “I wonder if Adam rambled all over Paradise, and if he did not feel awkward? I wish I knew what to do with my hands.” There was a crowd at Piccadilly Circus, and he had great difficulty in advancing. What attracted the attention of the population were the empty windows of Swan & Edgar’s. Hundreds of women were peering through the deserted shops which had hitherto been over-crowded with ladies’ apparel of every kind and sort. He edged his way through and contrived to get on the pavement; but many pushed him, and he elbowed freely in this crowd of Adams and Eves. He was very much astonished to find himself saying “Beg your pardon” when he unconsciously collided with anyone. “After all, I do not know who I am knocking against, it might be my most intimate friend, and upon the whole it is better to be polite to someone you do not know than to be wanting in common civility towards a friend.” The Earl had unwittingly got hold of a vital problem, and one that would no doubt induce Society some day to transform the tone of politeness.