"What of?" sneered Blanche. "At the worst it's skeletons, and we can come out again." Millie shuddered. "You go," she suggested. "Not by myself, I won't," returned Blanche. "There you are, you see," said Millie. "Well, it's different by yourself." "I hate it," returned Millie with emphasis. "So do I, in a way, only I'm fair starving," said Blanche. "Come on." The building was solidly furnished, and the ground floor, although somewhat disordered, still suggested a complacent luxury. On the floor lay a copy of the Evening Chronicle, dated May 10; possibly one of the last issues of a London journal. Two of the pages were quite blank, and almost the only advertisement was one hastily-set announcement of a patent medicine guaranteed as a sure protection against the plague. The remainder of the paper was filled with reports of the devastation that was being wrought, reports which were nevertheless marked by a faint spirit of simulated confidence. Between the lines could be read the story of desperate men clinging to hope with splendid courage. There were no signs of panic here. Groves had come out well at the last. The two girls hovered over this piece of ancient history for a few minutes. "You see," said Blanche triumphantly, "even then, more'n two months ago, every one was making for the country. We shall have to go, too. I told you we should." "I never said we shouldn't," returned Millie. "Anyhow there's nothing to eat here." "Not in this room, there isn't," said Blanche, "but there might be in the kitchens. Do you know what this place has been?" Millie shook her head. "It's been a man's club," announced Blanche. "First time you've been in one, old dear." "Come on, let's have a look downstairs, then," returned Millie, careless of her achievement. In the first kitchen they found havoc: broken china and glass, empty bottles, empty tins, cooking utensils on the floor, one table upset, everywhere devastation and the marks of struggle; but in none of the empty tins was there the least particle of food. Everything had been completely cleaned out. The rats had been there, and had gone. Exploring deeper, however, they were at last rewarded. On a table stood a whole array of unopened tins and in one of them was plunged a tin-opener, a single stab had been given, and then, possibly, another of these common tragedies had begun. Had he been alone, that plunderer, or had his companions fled from him in terror? Here the two girls made a sufficient meal, and discovered, moreover, a large store of unopened beer-bottles. They shared the contents of one between them, and then, feeling greatly reinvigorated, they sought for and found two baskets, which they filled with tinned foods. They only took away one bottle of beer--a special treat for their mother--on account of the weight. They remembered that they had a long walk before them; and they were not over-elated by their discovery; they were sick to death of tinned meats.