ir adversaries rushed at them, and in one
or two instances succeeded in pulling them down. A woman climbed up
and began to scream out something which could only be heard by a few
reporters gathered round her. I thought her an unpleasant-looking
person, and evidently her remarks were not palatable to the majority of
her auditors. There was a rush, and she was dragged from the base of one
of Landseer's lions on which she stood. Her skirt was half rent off
her and her bodice split down the back. Finally, she was conveyed
away, kicking, biting, and scratching, by a number of police. It was a
disgusting sight, and tumult ensued.

"Let us go," said Oro. "Your officers of order are good; the rest is not
good."

Later we found ourselves opposite to the doors of a famous restaurant
where a magnificent and gigantic commissionaire helped ladies from
motor-cars, receiving in return money from the men who attended on them.
We entered; it was the hour of dinner. The place sparkled with gems,
and the naked backs of the women gleamed in the electric light. Course
followed upon course; champagne flowed, a fine band played, everything
was costly; everything was, in a sense, repellent.

"These are the wealthy citizens of a nation engaged in fighting for its
life," remarked Oro to me, stroking his long beard. "It is interesting,
very interesting. Let us go."

We went out and on, passing a public-house crowded with women who had
left their babies in charge of children in the icy street. It was a
day of Intercession for the success of England in the war. This was
placarded everywhere. We entered, or, rather, Oro did, I following
him, one of the churches in the Strand where an evening service was in
progress. The preacher in the pulpit, a very able man, was holding forth
upon the necessity for national repentance and self-denial; also of
prayer. In the body of the church exactly thirty-two people, most
of them elderly women, were listening to him with an air of placid
acceptance.

"The priest talks well, but his hearers are not many," said Oro. "Let us
go."

We came to the flaunting doors of a great music-hall and passed through
them, though to others this would have been impossible, for the place
was filled from floor to roof. In its promenades men were drinking and
smoking, while gaudy women, painted and low-robed, leered at them. On
the stage girls danced, throwing their legs above their heads. Then they
vanished amidst applause, a