Raindrops were falling although the sky was visibly brightening as Miss Sinquier, tired, and a little uncertain, passed through the main exit of Euston terminus.
She wavered a moment upon the curb.
On a hoarding, as if to welcome her, a dramatic poster of Fan Fisher unexpectedly warmed her heart; it was almost like being met …
There stood Fan, at concert pitch, as Masha Olgaruski in The Spy.
Miss Sinquier tingled.
A thing like that was enough to give one wings for a week.
She set off briskly, already largely braced.
Before meeting Mrs Bromley on the morrow much would have to be done.
There was the difficulty of lodgment to consider.
Whenever she had been in the metropolis before she had stayed at Millars in Eric Street, overlooking Percy Place; because Mr Millar had formerly been employed at the Deanery, and had, moreover, married their cook …
But before going anywhere she must acquire a trunk.
Even Church dignitaries had been known to be refused accommodation on arriving at a strange hotel with nothing but themselves.
She threw a glance upwards towards a clock.
It was early yet!
All the wonderful day stretched before her, and in the evening she would take a ticket perhaps for some light vaudeville or new revue.
She studied the pleasure announcements on the motor-buses as they swayed along.
Stella Starcross – The Lady from the Sea – This evening, Betty Buttermilk and Co. – Rose Tournesol – Mr and Mrs Mary’s Season: The Carmelite – The Shop Boy – Clemenza di Tito. To-night!
Miss Sinquier blinked.
Meanwhile the family teapot was becoming a bore.
Until the shops should open up it might be well to take a taxi and rest in the Park for an hour.
The weather was clearing fast; the day showed signs of heat.
She hailed a passing cab.
‘Hyde Park,’ she murmured, climbing slowly in.
She thrilled.
Upon the floor and over the cushions of the cab were sprinkled fresh confetti – turquoise, pink and violet, gold and green.
She took up some.
As a mascot, she reflected, it would be equivalent to a cinqfoil of clover, or a tuft of edelweiss, or a twist of hangman’s rope.