"Hear me, Jack!" shrieked his mother. He had shaved his side-whiskers and come over in flannels, but he was still indisputably the same person who had attended Ann Veronica for the measles and when she swallowed the fish-bone. She untucked his starched shirt, running her hands along his smooth torso and underneath his arms. The audience clapped more heartily. They went on talking in the train—it seemed to her father a slight want of deference to him—and he listened and pretended to read the Times. At a sign from Ah Cum, official custodian of the sightseers, the polechair coolies pressed toward the left and halted. ‘All this gadding about. They bounced without merriment over bumpy Roman roads, and by the time they arrived she was extremely nauseous.
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