_we_ look like that?" Audrey suggested.

"I expect we do."

"I'm quite sure that I don't, Winnie, anyway. I'm really very cheerful. I'm
surprisingly cheerful."

It was true. Also she both looked and felt more girlish than ever in Paris.
Impossible to divine, watching her in her light clothes, and with her airy
step, that she was the relict of a man who had so tragically died of
blood-poisoning caused by bad table manners.

"I've a good mind to ask a policeman," said she.

"You'd better not," Miss Ingate warned her.

Audrey instantly turned into the roadway, treating the creosoted wood as
though it had been rose-strewn velvet, and reached a refuge where a
policeman was standing. The policeman bent with benevolence and politeness
to listen to her tale.

"Excuse me," she said, smiling innocently up at him, "but is anything the
matter?"

"_What_ street, miss?" he questioned, bending lower.

"Is anything the matter? All the people round here are so gloomy."

The policeman glanced at her.

"There will be something the matter," he remarked calmly. "There will be
something the matter pretty soon if I have much more of that suffragette
sauce. I thought you was one of them the moment I saw you, but I wasn't
sure."

This was the first time Audrey had ever spoken to a policeman, save
Inspector Keeble, at Moze, who was a friendly human being. And she had a
little pang of fear. The policeman was like a high wall of blue cloth,
with a marvellous imitation of a human face at the top, and above the face
a cupola.

"Thank you," she murmured reproachfully, and hastened back to Miss Ingate,
who heard the tale with a grinning awe that was, nevertheless, sardonic.
They pressed onwards to Piccadilly Circus, where the only normal and
cheerful living creatures were the van horses and the flower-women; and up
Regent Street, through crowds of rapt and mystical women and romantical men
who had apparently wandered out of a play by Henrik Ibsen.

They then took a motor-bus, which was full of the same enigmatic,
far-gazing heroines and heroes. When they got off, the conductor pointed
dreamily in a certain direction and murmured the words: "Paget Square."
Their desire was Paget Gardens, and, after finding Paget Square, Paget
Mansions, Paget Houses, Paget Street, Paget Mews, and Upper Paget Street,
they found Paget Gardens. It was a terrace of huge and fashionable houses
fronting on an immense, blank brick wall. The houses were very lo