[See "The Barrel Organ by Alfred Noyes. Ed.] [I have placed it at the
end for your convenience]
"Seems good to get back, doesn't it?" Bartley whispered, as they drove
from Bayswater Road into Oxford Street. "London always makes me want to
live more than any other city in the world. You remember our priestess
mummy over in the mummy-room, and how we used to long to go and bring
her out on nights like this? Three thousand years! Ugh!"
"All the same, I believe she used to feel it when we stood there and
watched her and wished her well. I believe she used to remember," Hilda
said thoughtfully.
"I hope so. Now let's go to some awfully jolly place for dinner before
we go home. I could eat all the dinners there are in London to-night.
Where shall I tell the driver? The Piccadilly Restaurant? The music's
good there."
"There are too many people there whom one knows. Why not that little
French place in Soho, where we went so often when you were here in
the summer? I love it, and I've never been there with any one but you.
Sometimes I go by myself, when I am particularly lonely."
"Very well, the sole's good there. How many street pianos there are
about to-night! The fine weather must have thawed them out. We've had
five miles of `Il Trovatore' now. They always make me feel jaunty. Are
you comfy, and not too tired?"
"I'm not tired at all. I was just wondering how people can ever die.
Why did you remind me of the mummy? Life seems the strongest and most
indestructible thing in the world.
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