gewey!"

They passed down the long, narrow street, with its dingy foreign cafes
and shops scarcely one of which seemed to be English. The people who
thronged the pavements were of a new race to John, swarthy, a little
furtive, a class of foreigner seldom seen except in alien lands. Men and
women in all stages of dishabille were leaning out of the windows or
standing on the doorsteps. The girls whom they met occasionally--young
women of all ages, walking arm in arm, with shawls on their heads in
place of hats--laughed openly in John's face.

"Conquests everywhere he goes!" Louise sighed. "We shall never keep him,
Sophy!"

"We have him for this evening, at any rate," Sophy replied contentedly;
"and he hasn't spent all his fortune yet. I am not at all sure that I
shall not hint at supper when we come out of the Palace."

"No hint will be necessary," John promised. "I feel the gnawings of
hunger already."

"A millionaire's first night in London!" Sophy exclaimed. "I think I
shall write it up for the _Daily Mail_."

"A pity he fell into bad hands so quickly," Louise laughed. "Here we
are! Stalls, please, Mr. Millionaire. I wouldn't be seen to-night in the
seats of the mighty."

John risked a reproof, however, and was fortunate enough to find a
disengaged box.

"The tone of the evening," Louise grumbled, as she settled herself down
comfortably, "is lost. This is the most expensive box in the place."

"You could restore it by eating an orange," Sophy suggested.

"Or even chocolates," John ventured, sweeping most of the contents of an
attendant's tray onto the ledge of the box.

"After this," Sophy declared, falling upon them, "supper will be a
farce."

"Make you thirsty," John reminded her.

They devoted their attention to the show, Louise and Sophy at first with
only a moderate amount of interest, John with the real enthusiasm of one
to whom everything is new. His laughter was so hearty, his appreciation
so sincere, that his companions found it infectious, and began to
applaud everything.

"What children we are!" Louise exclaimed. "Fancy shrieking with laughter
at a ventriloquist whom I have seen at every music-hall I have been to
during the last five or six years!"

"He was wonderfully clever, all the same," John insisted.

"The bioscope," Louise decided firmly, "I refuse to have anything to do
with. You have had all the entertainment you are going to have this
evening, Mr. Countryman."

"Now for suppe