and send it skimming across in another direction. There were shouts of jeering pleasure from the mass, which rose almost to a yell as seven straw hats were skimming, meteor-like, at one moment across the slope of people.
“Look at that!” said Owen. “Isn’t that fun!”
“No,” said Kate, her little alter ego speaking out for once, in spite of her will-to-happiness. “No, I don’t like it. I really hate common people.”
As a socialist, Owen disapproved, and as a happy man, he was disconcerted. Because his own real self, as far as he had any left, hated common rowdiness just as much as Kate did.
“It’s awfully smart though!” he said, trying to laugh in sympathy with the mob. “There now, see that!”
“Yes, it’s quite smart, but I’m glad it’s not my hat,” said Villiers.
“Oh, it’s all in