futurist necktie at two-and-six-three, and, as I was leaving the shop,
turned back carelessly. "By the by, would you mind putting this bill
in your window?" I said.

His lip curled. "This is a high-class business. We make it a rule--no
bills," he said.

At the butcher's next door there were several customers. They all gave
way to me. I made purchases worthy of my appearance and carriage, half
an ox tail and some chitterlings. Then I proffered a handbill. The man
in blue accepted it and, before I had opened my lips, returned it to
me wrapped round the ox tail. I was too taken aback to explain. In
fact, when he held out his hand, I mechanically gave him another bill
for the chitterlings.

At the next shop, a fancy draper's, I acted with cunning. In the
centre of the window, on a raised background of silver paper, was
displayed a wreath of orange-blossom veiled with tulle. I bought
it. The young ladies were hysterical. "May I ask permission to put
this little handbill in its place?" I said. They appealed to the
shopwalker. "In the absence of the head of the firm I cannot see my
way to accede to your request," he said. "At present he is on the
Rhine. On his demobilisation I will place the matter before him if you
will leave the bill in my hands." I left it.

I skipped a gramophone emporium and a baby-linen shop and entered a
fishmonger's. Here I adopted tactics of absolute candour. "Look here,"
I said, "I haven't come to buy anything. I don't want any fish, flesh
or red-herring, but I should be no end grateful if you would stick
this bill up for me somewhere."