indows.

She loved to pass in front of the Horse Shoe, where stars lived, real
ones, not performing dogs. And then, round a piece of waste land, there
was a hoarding covered with advertisements that interested her: the
Hippodrome, the Kingdom, the Castle were displayed between extract of beef
and mustard; and there were always new programs; always new names; and
elephants, horses, lions; and tights....

Lily looked at this for a few seconds. And, suddenly, she felt a thrill;
on a scarlet poster, dazzling as the sun, she read:

"Great success! Trampy Wheel-Pad!! At the Kingdom!!!" Trampy in London!

Not that Lily was astonished: it seemed to her quite simple that he should
be there, as simple as for her to be in Chicago, Bombay or Capetown;
people do sometimes meet on tour, it all depends: you can be separated for
years and then perform at the same theater for months. No, she was not in
the least astonished: a little excited, that was all, without exactly
knowing why....

"But, if I should meet him," she thought, "what shall I say to him? What
will he say to me? Will he think me grown prettier or uglier?"

Lily came to herself again and continued on her errand; crossed Tottenham
Court Road, plunged into a labyrinth of blocked alleys, of dark courts,
and, suddenly, was at Jimmy's.

Lily did not like him much; she considered him good-looking, for a man,
but too shy. He never paid her a compliment. He seemed to think her ugly,
whereas many others admired her and made no bones about telling her so,
especially since the last few months; but he was ashamed of himself, no
doubt: a drunkard, as Ma said.

Poor Lily had no luck. She would have been so happy to be courted, to
relieve her boredom. But nothing disgusted her so much as drink. And yet
it didn't show in Jimmy. He always walked straight, never fell, like that
head-balancer who, the other night, had come tumbling down from his perch.
Besides, that one had an excuse; he drank because he was crossed in love;
to forget, they said. Lily forgave everything the moment there was love in
it; but an icicle like Jimmy, who loved nobody and who drank for the sake
of drinking ... ugh!

Jimmy was at work when Lily entered. The small, dark shop, crammed with
things in steel, with loose wheels, queer-shaped objects, reminded Lily of
a property store, only it was dirtier. There were tools everywhere;
designs for machinery pinned on the walls; it was all very ugly.

And Jimmy's