Maryska regarded these gangs of loafers with inquiring eyes. She had seen nothing of the kind in any country, and they excited her contempt. When she asked Harry why none of them carried guns, his laughter seemed to her quite silly. "The police would never let them do that in Austria," she said emphatically. "Each side would have guns and they would kill each other. The English are afraid, I think. They should not let such people be in London." "But, Gipsy, don't you know this winter is killing them by thousands? Haven't you read it in the newspapers?" "Oh!" she said. "He would never believe what was in the newspapers. He said it was--but you would be angry. Are we going to have bouillabaisse soon? I am dreadfully hungry; I could eat a man, truly I could." "Then I mustn't take you where any man is. This is the Strand, the place a lot of your people come to. Do you see that sign over yonder? We are going to eat there." "But, Harry, it's a tailor shop! Oh, you little beast! You would not take me to a tailor's shop? You can't mean to take me there!" "Cheer up!" he said, squeezing her arm, "they cut very well," and so they drove into the courtyard, and seeing the actresses in weird furs at the door of the café, Maryska leaped down from the taxi and laughed with pleasure. "I could kiss you if it were English," she said. Evidently she was of the opinion that it was not English, and so no more on that point was said. II Her idea was still a café chantant, and the Savoy met it badly. She had seen a number of well-dressed women in Berlin, in Madrid, and in Paris; but these, apparently, had belonged to the undesirable classes, and she could hardly believe that any showy creature in the neighbourhood of the ancient hospice of the Fratres de Monte Jovis--a fraternity unknown, may be, to the courtly Gustave--could be of any other kidney. Twenty times during the elegant repast must Harry say, "Do shut up, Gipsy!" and as often must her eyes express wonder. What had she done? There were odd moments when the mere girl in her came out with a bang, and the boy blushed up to his ears. She laughed uproariously at two waiters who cannoned each other off the soup, and when a clumsy fellow dropped her box of chocolates on the floor, she was after it in a twinkling and down on her paws like a cat. This was a depressing interlude which alarmed her conventional cavalier. Harry hated "scenes" with the distaste habitual to the Englishman of strait laced manners. He forbade her to smoke, moreover, and that was a grievance. She had smoked cigarettes since she could remember anything at all, and were not other women, especially the daughter-in-law of a personage famous in great circles, were not they smoking? Maryska knew nothing about palaces, but much about tobacco, and this was a question which nearly led to the resignation of the Cabinet.