He was a handsome boy, the very image of her father, the late Lord Riversdale, and now as she gazed down on him, her eyes slightly dewed with tears, he looked up to her window.
She kissed her hand to him, and the boy waved his little cap toward her with almost passionate gesticulations of delight.

Felix would be a great man some day; this book of hers was a stone in the foundation of his fame as well as of her own.
It was upon this mood of exultation, a rare mood for Felicita, that the cry and roar from the street had broken.

With a half-smile at herself, the thought flashed across her mind that it was like a shout of applause and admiration, such as might greet Felix some day when he had proved himself a leader of men.

But it aroused her dormant curiosity, and she had condescended to be drawn by it to the window of the drawing-room overlooking Whitefriars Road, in order to ascertain its cause.

The crowd filling the street was deeply in earnest, and the aim of those who were fighting their way through it was plainly the bank offices in the floor below her.