Again she agreed, having become unusually quiet, and not till we turned into Regent Street did she regain her cheerfulness. I did not particularly notice it at the time, but long afterwards I found out the reason, which was briefly this. There were two ways of reaching Piccadilly from our house, one being down Regent Street, crowded at that time of day, and the other down deserted back streets. Luckily I chose the former, and Belinda had been watching to see which I should take, being quite ready to assume that I was ashamed of her if I had gone the quiet way. I certainly had no idea of minding being seen with her, as the worst thing that could happen would be that my friends might think me rather eccentric in my choice of society, but as I was doing nothing wrong, their opinion troubled me little. Belinda Ann had evidently got herself up with a special eye to my company. A well-worn but neat black serge skirt was surmounted by the inevitable blouse, evidently picked up cheap at some second-hand clothes shop. It had once been handsome, being of shot pink and blue _glacé_ silk trimmed lavishly with iridescent trimming and quantities of cheap lace, but now most of its glories had departed, and personally I should have preferred their absence altogether, but still it suited her in a bizarre, picturesque way, although it attracted more attention than was quite desirable. It was surmounted by her old black straw hat, from which, however, she had removed the dirty white flowers. She looked better in her workaday dress and apron, but it would be difficult to tell her so, and I was still busy revolving plans in my mind for her education in taste, when we arrived in Piccadilly, and in the wild excitement of “boarding” the Blackwall omnibus, my thoughts were reduced to chaos. Belinda Ann, with rare delicacy, climbed on the top, leaving me to sit inside alone, so I had plenty of leisure for thinking during the long hot drive. Oh, it was long and it was hot! Many times during our progress I thought regretfully of my favourite window-seat at home, with its usual accompaniments of an interesting book or a little languid work. I was in for it now, however, as I realised more fully when the omnibus stopped and we got out. Belinda Ann indicated another very small specimen of the same vehicle round which a surging crowd was having a sort of free fight, at sight of which I basely deserted my colours. “Let’s take a cab, Belinda!” I suggested weakly, but this proved easier said than done. Not a single cab was to be had for love or money, and it really looked as if we should get no further.