The woman beside him was the typical courtesan of the ages, low-browed and full-lipped. Her eyes were eloquent with the subtleties of love, with invitation, retreat, fear and desire. Had she been dressed becomingly she would have been beautiful; but she was English and modern, and her great meaningless hat and senseless garments were of the fashion that had been in vogue just before the plague. This reigning sultana and her lover were more incongruous in that setting than the two dishevelled, travel-worn girls, who retreated timidly to let the landau pass out between the great iron gates. The Bacchantes eyed the Goslings with obvious disfavour, but the beauty in the landau seemed unaware of their presence until her lord's attention was attracted by the sight of Millie's hair--it was all down again, rippling and spreading to her waist. The young butcher had been lolling back in a corner of his carriage, magnificently indolent, sure of worship; but his satiety was pierced by the sight of that flaming mane. He sat up and looked at Millie with the experienced eyes which had served him so well in his judgment of cattle. "'Ere, 'alf a jiff," he commanded the nymphs at his horses' bridles, and the carriage was stopped. Millie, covered with shame, shrank back, and cowered behind Blanche, who threw up her chin and met the butcher's eyes with all the contempt of which she was capable--little enough, perhaps, for she, too, was weak with unreasoning terror. Behind their backs the Jewess grimaced her scorn of them. "You needn't be afraid of me--I ain't goin' to 'urt yer----" began the butcher, but his lady interrupted him. Her fine eyes grew bright with anger. "If you stop here, I shall get out," she said, and her inflexion was not that of the people. The butcher visibly hesitated. It may be that this chain had held him too long and was beginning to gall him, but he looked at her and wavered. "No 'arm in stoppin'," he muttered. "Pass the news an' that." "Are you going on?" demanded the beauty fiercely. "All right, all right," he returned sullenly. "You needen' get so blasted 'uffy about it, old gal. Oh, gow on, you!" he added to the nymphs. "Wot the 'ell are yer starin' at?" As the landau moved on, he looked back once at Millie. 4 "What a brute," said Blanche when the procession had passed on down the hill towards Wycombe. "How he stared at my hair," said Millie, with a giggle. "I did try to get it up, but it's that stubborn with the heat or something." "Lucky for us he had that creature with him," commented Blanche. Millie assented without fervour. She was bold enough now the danger had passed. Mrs Isaacson looked from one to the other and attempted no criticism of the adventure. "You must let me do up your beautiful hair," she said to the simpering Millie. Millie was grateful. "It is kind of you, Mrs Isaacson, I'm sure," she said. "My hair is a trouble. I sometimes think I'll cut it all off and be done with it...."