And he bowed, bareheaded, in response to a gay wave of the hand from
Wanda as the carriage turned the corner and disappeared. He turned on
his heel, to find himself cut off from the grand-stand by a dense throng
of people moving rather confusedly towards the exit. The sky was black,
and a shower was impending.

"Ah, well!" he muttered, philosophically, "they are capable of taking
care of themselves."

And he joined the throng making for the gates. It appeared, however,
that he gave more credit than was merited; for Netty was carried along
by a stream of people whose aim was a gate to the left of the great
gate, and though she saw the hat of her uncle above the hats of the
other men, she could not make her way towards it. Mr. Mangles and
his sister passed out of the large gateway, and waited in the first
available space beyond it. Netty was carried by the gentle pressure of
the crowd to the smaller gate, and having passed it, decided to wait
till her uncle, who undoubtedly must have seen her, should come in
search of her. She was not uneasy. All through her life she had always
found people, especially men, ready, nay, anxious, to be kind to her.
She was looking round for Mr. Mangles when a man came towards her. He
was only a workman in his best suit of working clothes. He had a narrow,
sunburned face, and there was in his whole being a not unpleasant
suggestion of the seafaring life.

"I am afraid," he said, in perfect English, as he raised his cap, "that
you have lost the rest of your party. You are also in the wrong course,
so to speak. We are the commoner people here, you see. Can I help you to
find your father?"