higgledy-piggledy on the platform would parody the speakers. And
doubtless, if there is a beneficent Providence that really picks the
world over for opportunities of kindliness, halls which are habitually
let out for political meetings are allowed means of relieving their
feelings which are forbidden to other collections of bricks and mortar.
But he mustn't say that to Ellen. To her political meetings were plainly
sacred rituals, and in any case he was not sure whether she laughed at
things.

She called to him from the doorway, "I'm through, Mr. Yaverland!" She
was wearing a tam-o'-shanter and a mackintosh, which she buttoned right
up to her chin, and she looked just a brown pipe with a black knob at
the top, a mere piece of plumbing. He thought it very probable that
never before in the history of the human race had a beautiful girl
dressed herself so unbecomingly. But that she had done so seemed so
peculiarly and deliciously amusing that as he walked by her side he
could hardly keep from looking at her smilingly in a way that would have
puzzled and annoyed her. And outside the hall, when they found that the
mist, like a sour man who will not give way to his temper but keeps on
dropping disagreeable remarks, was letting down just enough of itself to
soak Edinburgh without giving it the slightest hope that it would rain
itself out by the morning, he caught again this queer flavour of her
that in its sharpness and its freshness reminded him of the taste of
fresh celery. He asked her if she hadn't an umbrella, and she replied,
"I've no use for umbrellas; I like the feel of the rain on my face, and
I see no sense in paying three-and-eleven for avoiding a positive
pleasure."

By that time Ellen was almost sure that he was smiling to himself in the
darkness, and was miserable. It was a silly, homely thing to have said.