“You really couldn’t ride in it,” he said, deprecatingly. “It does nothing but sit there. For a few minutes all was silent. Horrible memories of things seen beneath the microscope of the baser forms of life crawled across her mind and set her shuddering with imagined irritations. Were I a painter of subject pictures, I would exhaust all my skill in proportion and perspective and atmosphere upon the august seat of empire, I would present it gray and dignified and immense and respectable beyond any mere verbal description, and then, in vivid black and very small, I would put in those valiantly impertinent vans, squatting at the base of its altitudes and pouring out a swift, straggling rush of ominous little black objects, minute figures of determined women at war with the universe. ‘And housebreaking,’ added Gerald calmly. Kneebone's man is in the shop," said Rachel; "he'll take it.
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