The group, which was entirely female, stared round and down at her in astonished silence, and shook its heads; and as she saw Mr. Twist being turned away for the fifth time in the distance a wave of red despair came over her, and she said, reproach in her voice and tears in her eyes, “But somebody’s got to be the Sacks.”

Upon which the group she was addressing stared at her in a more astonished silence than ever.

Mr. Twist came up mopping his brow and took he arm and led her back to Anna-Felicitas, who was taking care of the luggage and had sat down philosophically to await developments on a bag of sulphur.  She didn’t yet know what sulphur looked like on one’s clothes after one has sat on it, and smiled cheerfully and encouragingly at Anna-Rose as she came towards her.

“There are no Sacks,” said Anna-Rose, facing the truth.

“It’s exactly like that Uncle Arthur of yours,” said Mr. Twist, mopping his forehead and speaking almost vindictively.  “Exactly like him.  A man like that would have the sort of friends that don’t meet one.”

“Well, we must do without the Sacks,” said Anna-Felicitas, rising from the sulphur bag with the look of serene courage that can only dwell on the face of one who is free from care as to what has happened to him behind.  “And it isn’t,” she added sweetly to Mr. Twist, “as if we hadn’t got you.”

“Yes,” said Anna-Rose, suddenly seeing daylight.  “Of course.  What do Sacks really matter?  I mean, for a day or two?  You’ll take us somewhere where we can wait till we’ve found them.”

“Yes,” said Anna-Felicitas.  “Some nice quiet old-fashioned coffee-house sort of place, like the one the Brontes went to in St. Paul’s Churchyard the first time they were launched into the world.”

“Yes.  Some inexpensive place.”

“Suited to the frugal.”

“Because although we’ve got L200, even that will need watching or it will go.”

During this conversation Mr. Twist stood mopping his forehead.  As often as he mopped it it broke out afresh and had to be mopped again.  They were the only passengers left now, and had become very conspicuous.  He couldn’t but perceive that a group of officials with grim, locked-up-looking mouths were eyeing him and the Twinklers attentively.

Always zealous in the cause of virtue, America provided her wharves and landing-places with officials specially appointed to guard the purity of family life.  Family life obviously cannot be pure without a marriage being either in it or having at some time or other passed through it.  The officials engaged in eyeing Mr. Twist and the twins were all married themselves, and were well acquainted with that awful purity.  But eye the Twist and Twinkler party as they might, they could see no trace of marriage anywhere about it.

On the contrary, the man of the party looked so uneasy that it amounted to conscious illegality.