paper book called _Love in Society_ by the light of an electric torch.

"It's all truly over," said Sarah Brown, who had come home through a
roar of rumour. "They say we've brought down at least one Boche. In fact
the ferryman says his aunt telephoned that the special on her corner
says a female Boche was brought down. But that hardly sounds likely.
Hasn't the witch come home yet?"

"Lawd no," replied Peony. "The dear ol' Soup never comes 'ome of a
moonlight night. It's my belief she goes to Maiden'ead among the Jews,
to keep out of the wiy, and 'oo's to blime 'er?"

"Well, that's all right," said Sarah Brown. "For now I shall be able to
buy--without pawning anything for the moment--a little land outfit from
stock. I know she has some."

The night was by then far from young, in fact it was well into its
second childhood. But Sarah Brown and the Dog David sought and tried on
land outfits for several hours.

The shop was divided into three horizontal departments. Nearest the
floor were the foodstuffs; biscuit tins buttressed the counter on every
side; regiments of Grape-nuts, officered by an occasional Quaker Oat,
stood in review order all round the lower shelves. On the counter little
castles of tinned fruit were built, while bins beneath it held the
varied grain, cereal, and magic stock. About on a level with one's head
the hardware department began: frying-pans lolled with tin coffee-pots
over racks, dust-pans divorced from their brushes were platonically
attached to flat-irons or pie-dishes, Stephen's Inks were allied with
penny mugs or tins of boot polish in an invasion of the middle shelves,