e of hat cord; the rich gilt and blue of
naval officers and the blue and white of their jackies were everywhere
to be encountered.

And then everywhere, also, the brighter hue and exotic cut of foreign
uniforms was apparent--splashes of gayer tints amid khaki and sober
civilian garb--the beautiful _garance_ and horizon-blue of French
officers; the familiar "brass hat" of the British; the grey-blue and
maroon of Italians. And there were stranger uniforms in varieties
inexhaustible--the schapska-shaped head-gear of Polish officers, the
beret of Czecho-Slovaks. And everywhere, too, the gay and well-known
red pom-pon bobbed on the caps of French blue-jackets, and British
marines stalked in pairs, looking every inch the soldier with their
swagger sticks and their vizorless forage-caps.

Always, it seemed to Palla, there was military music to be heard above
the roar of traffic--sometimes the drums and bugles of foreign
detachments, arrived in aid of "drives" and loans of various sorts.

Ambulances painted grey and bright blue, and driven by smartly
uniformed young women, were everywhere.

And to women's uniforms there seemed no end, ranging all the way from
the sober blue of the army nurse and the pretty white of the Red
Cross, to bizarre but smart effects carried smartly by well set up
girls representing scores of service corps, some invaluable, some of
doubtful utility.

Eagle huts, canteens, soldiers' rest houses, Red Cross quarters,
clubs, temporary barracks, peppered the city. Everywhere the service
flags were visible, also, telling their proud stories in five-pointed
symbols--sometimes tragic, where gold stars glittered.

Never had New York seemed to contain so many people; never had the
overflow so congested avenue and street, circle and square, and the
wretchedly inadequate and dirty street-car and subway service.

And into the heart of it all went Palla, engulfed in the great tides
of Fifth Avenue, drifting into quieter back-waters to east and west,
and sometimes caught and tossed about in the glittering maelstrom of
Broadway when she ventured into the theatre district.

Opera, comedy, musical show and cinema interested her; restaurant and
cabaret she had evaded, so far, but what most excited and fascinated
her was the people themselves--these eager, restless moving millions
swarming through the city day and night, always in motion under blue
skies or falling rain, perpetually in quest of what the world
ete