smile.

"Jenny!" Audrey protested, full of heroine-worship. "How could you think I
would ever do such a mean thing!"

There came a dull, vague, voluminous sound from the direction of the
Imperial Hall. It lasted for quite a number of seconds.

"He's beginning," said Jane Foley. "I do feel sorry for him."

"Are we to start now?" Audrey asked deferentially.

"Oh, no!" Jane laughed. "The great thing is to let them think everything's
all right. And then, when they're getting careless, let go at them full
bang with a beautiful surprise. There'll be a chance of getting away like
that. I believe there are a hundred and fifty stewards in the meeting, and
they'll every one be quite useless."

At intervals a muffled roar issued from the Imperial Hall, despite the fact
that the windows were closely shut.

In due time Jane Foley quietly rose from the table, and Audrey did
likewise. All around them stretched the imposing blue architecture of the
Exhibition, forming vistas that ended dimly either in the smoke of
Birmingham or the rustic haze of Worcestershire. And, although the Imperial
Hall was crammed, every vista was thickly powdered with pleasure-seekers
and probably pleasure-finders. Bands played. Flags waved. Brass glinted.
Even the sun feebly shone at intervals through the eternal canopy of soot.
It was a great day in the annals of the Blue City and of Liberalism.

And Jane Foley and Audrey turned their backs upon all that, and--Jane
concealing her limp as much as possible--sauntered with affected
nonchalance towards the precincts of the Joy Wheel enclosure. Audrey was
inexpressibly uplifted. She felt as if she had stepped straight into
romance. And she was right--she had stepped into the most vivid romance of
the modern age, into a world of disguises, flights, pursuits, chicane,
inconceivable adventures, ideals, martyrs and conquerors, which only the
Renaissance or the twenty-first century could appreciate.

"Lend me that, will you?" said Jane persuasively to the man with the
megaphone at the entrance to the enclosure.

He was, quite properly, a very loud man, with a loud thick voice, a loud
purple face, and a loud grey suit. To Audrey's astonishment, he smiled and
winked, and gave up the megaphone at once.

Audrey paid sixpence at the turnstile, admittance for two persons, and they
were within the temple, which had a roof like an umbrella over the central,
revolving portion of it, but which was somewhat open to t