Yeovil turned his steps homeward, passing on his way the bandstand with its surrounding acreage of tables.

It was now nearly one o'clock, and luncheon parties were beginning to assemble under the awnings of the restaurant.

Lighter refreshments, in the shape of sausages and potato salads, were being carried out by scurrying waiters to the drinkers of lager beer at the small tables.

A park orchestra, in brilliant trappings, had taken the place of the military band.

As Yeovil passed the musicians launched out into the tune which the doctor had truly predicted he would hear to repletion before he had been many days in London; the "National Anthem of the fait accompli.".