"Oh, yes. You wouldn't ride without them."

"And do you take a maid to look after them?"

"Well, you must have a maid."

"And when you travel on the Continent, do you take a maid?"

"I always took one."

"What is Paris like? Isn't it just a dream? Did you go to
the opera?--Have you been on the Riviera?--Oh, do tell me about
those places--is it like you read about in books?--all beautiful,
well-dressed women and men with nothing to do--and did you go to
Monte Carlo?"

This was all poured out in a rush of words; but in Mary's experience
the Continent was merely a place where the Continentals got the
better of the English, and she said so.

"Travelling is so mixed up with discomfort, that it loses half
its plumage," she said. "I'll tell you all I can about Paris some
other time. Now you tell me," she went on, folding carefully a
silk blouse and putting it in a drawer, "are there any neighbours
here? Will anyone come to call?"

"I'm afraid you'll find it very dull here," said Ellen. "There are
no neighbours at all except Poss and Binjie, two young fellows on
the next station. The people in town are just the publicans and