I looked, and shuddered, and was thankfully convinced. In my efforts not to aim too high, my standard had fallen impossibly low, and Bridget's keen common sense had been right in prophesying that I was more likely to find a congenial type of people in a neighbourhood which appealed to my own taste. No sooner said than done! I escorted Bridget to a restaurant, and fed her and myself with lots of good hot food, and then straightway hired a taxi, and drove back to the agents to demand addresses of flats a little further afield, which should have at least a modicum of light and air. It appeared that I had demanded the thing above all others for which tens of thousands of other women were already clamouring! "Everybody wants a cheap flat in an open and airy situation. For one that is to let we have a hundred applicants. Of course, if you are prepared to pay a long price--" "But I am not." "Quite so. Otherwise I have some fine sites in Campden Hill. Lift. Central heating. Every convenience." "Seventy pounds is the utmost--" "Quite so. Then we must rule out Campden Hill, or Hampstead, or Kensington." The agent switched over the leaves of his book, ran his finger down a list, and hesitated, frowning. "There is _one_ vacancy which might suit--a small block of flats on the borders of Hammersmith. The postal address is Kensington. I don't know if you are particular as to address?" "Not a bit." "Ah!" The agent evidently thought small beer of me for the admission. "Most ladies are. In this case we can ask an extra five pounds a year because of the Kensington address, and the class of tenants is much better than in the adjoining blocks a few hundred yards off, where the postal address is Hammersmith."