After a while, the sight of a noisy flaring street-market in full swing, reminded her that she must make some purchases if she wanted dinner on the morrow. Accordingly--after commencing operations by buying a capacious wicker marketing-basket, in emulation of the busy purchasers who were evidently experienced housewives--she set about considering her next day's _menu_. Despite her quiet demeanour, she attracted a great deal of notice. Many heads were turned to gaze after her; nudgings and whisperings heralded her approach. She disliked this attention, and unaware that her face, apart from its arresting beauty, still bore traces of the emotional anguish she had so recently passed through, put it all down to her attire. She could not fail to see that her costume--albeit the simplest in her late wardrobe--was of an entirely different stamp to that worn by her surrounding sister-women, and resolved on the morrow to get a really cheap skirt and blouse for such occasions. That night, the purchase of food required all her thought. All went off well, save at the butcher's. There she considered she made a fool of herself! Although it was Monday night, each shop of this description was surrounded by a crowd of carnivorous humanity. "Buy, buy, buy!" the salesman was shouting encouragingly. "Here's a lovely little joint. Walk up and look--no call to buy. Prime beef. Buy, buy, buy! Walk up, people, walk up!" At length Evarne followed this advice, and did "walk up." The counter outside the shop consisted of a series of divisions marked by numbers ranging from four to ten, and each containing a mass of smallish portions of meat. Those in number ten partition looked less dried and utterly repulsive than the rest, so, deciding on a tiny piece, the girl daintily touched it with the tip of her finger and inquired its price. "Tenpence," shouted the noisy butcher, darting away to attend to another customer. Evarne considered that was far too dear for such a wee portion. She wasn't going to be cheated because she was nicely dressed; she just wouldn't have that piece! Settling upon a thin chop, she once again made business-like inquiries concerning its price. Strange! This was even smaller than her first choice, yet it was tenpence likewise. This was really puzzling. Ah! Perhaps it was tenpence a piece, regardless of size. It didn't seem likely, but if so, she would see that she got her money's worth, and lifting up the largest portion of all she once more succeeded in attracting the butcher's attention. "How much is this bit, then?" she inquired. The unkind butcher man actually got rude. "Lor' love yer, can't yer 'ear me a-telling yer it's _tenpence_, and ain't it printed plain enough?" Evarne was affronted by this unaccustomed disrespect. "I'll take this piece, then," she announced with the air of a duchess, whereupon the man, in no ways abashed, promptly flung it out of sight under a row of hanging joints, into the interior of the shop.