She went on her way now no longer dreaming and appreciative, but disturbed and unwillingly observant behind her mask of serene contentment. One post-midnight meeting, she could stand it no longer. ‘Shall we abandon the guard, then, sir?’ ‘Certainly not. ‘Well, I thought as how someone in the house in Paddington might see me hanging about outside like. How does one get work? She walked along the Strand and across Trafalgar Square, and by the Haymarket to Piccadilly, and so through dignified squares and palatial alleys to Oxford Street; and her mind was divided between a speculative treatment of employment on the one hand, and breezes—zephyr breezes—of the keenest appreciation for London, on the other. ‘Lawks-a-mussy! It’s Miss Mary. The Disguise 261 VI.
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