this one--which was copied, as I told you, from an English model."

"Last night; oh, yes," Philip answered. "Last night was Saturday;
that makes all the difference. The suit's right enough in its way,
of course,--very neat and gentlemanly; but NOT for Sunday. You're
expected on Sundays to put on a black coat and waistcoat, you know,
like the ones I'm wearing."

Bertram's countenance fell. "And if I'm seen in the street like
this," he asked, "will they do anything to me? Will the guardians
of the peace--the police, I mean--arrest me?"

Frida laughed a bright little laugh of genuine amusement.

"Oh, dear, no," she said merrily; "it isn't an affair of police at
all; not so serious as that: it's only a matter of respectability."

"I see," Bertram answered. "Respectability's a religious or
popular, not an official or governmental, taboo. I quite understand
you. But those are often the most dangerous sort. Will the people
in the street, who adore Respectability, be likely to attack me or
mob me for disrespect to their fetich?"

"Certainly not," Frida replied, flushing up. He seemed to be
carrying a joke too far. "This is a free country. Everybody wears
and eats and drinks just what he pleases."

"Well, that's all very interesting to me," the Alien went on with a
charming smile, that disarmed her indignation; "for I've come here
on purpose to collect facts and notes about English taboos and