ll the time?"

"No," said Julie emphatically, "something quite different. You shall show
me some of the real London sights, Westminster Abbey to begin with. Then
we'll drive along the Embankment and you shall tell me what everything
is, and we'll go and see anything else you suggest. I don't suppose
you realise, Peter, that I'm all but absolutely ignorant of London."

He turned and smiled on her. "And you really _want_ to see these things?"
he said.

"Yes, of course I do. You don't think I suggested it for your benefit?
But if it will make you any happier, I'll flatter you a bit. I want to
see those things now, with you, partly because I'm never likely to find
anyone who can show me them better. Now then. Aren't you pleased?"

At that, then, they started. Westminster came first, and they wandered
all over it and saw as much as the conditions of war had left for the
public to see. It amused Peter to show Julie the things that seemed to
him to have a particular interest--the Chapter House, St. Faith's Chapel,
the tomb of the Confessor, and so on. She made odd comments. In St.
Faith's she said: "I don't say many prayers, Peter, but here I couldn't
say one."

"Why not?" he demanded.

"Because it's too private," she said quaintly. "I should think I was
pretending to be a saint if I went past everybody else and the vergers
and things into a little place like this all by myself. Everyone would
know that I was doing something which most people don't do. See? Why
don't people pray all over the church, as they do in France in a
cathedral, Peter?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "Come on," he said; "your notions are all
topsy-turvy, Julie. Come and look at the monuments."

They wandered down the transept, and observed the majesty of England in
stone, robed in togas, declaiming to the Almighty, and obviously
convinced that He would be intensely interested; or perhaps dying in the
arms of a semi-dressed female, with funeral urns or ships or cannon
In the background; or, at least in one case, crouching hopelessly, before
the dart of a triumphant death. Julie was certainly impressed, "They are
all like ancient Romans, Peter," she said, "and much more striking than
those Cardinals and Bishops and Kings, kneeling at prayer, in Rouen
Cathedral. But, still, they were _not_ ancient Romans, were they? They
were all Christains, I suppose. Is there a Christian monument anywhere
about?"

"I don't know," said Peter, "but we'll walk round