“We need not go there—yet?” said Elizabeth.
“No—not till we are hungry,” said Denton.
They said no more.
Elizabeth’s eyes sought a resting-place and found none. To the right roared the eastward ways, to the left the ways in the opposite direction, swarming with people. Backwards and forwards along a cable overhead rushed a string of gesticulating men, dressed like clowns, each marked on back and chest with one gigantic letter, so that altogether they spelt out:
“Purkinje’s Digestive Pills.”
An anæmic little woman in horrible coarse blue canvas pointed a little girl to one of this string of hurrying advertisements.
“Look!” said the anæmic woman: “there’s yer father.”
“Which?” said the little girl.
“’Im wiv his nose coloured red,” said the anæmic woman.
The little girl began to cry,
