Shortly afterwards Miss Ingate shouted downstairs into the earth:
“Miss Foley, we’re both just going out to post some letters.”
The faint reply came:
“Supper at nine.”
At the farther corner of Paget Square they discovered a pillar-box standing solitary in the chill night among the vast and threatening architecture.
“Do let’s go to a café,” suggested Audrey.
“A café?”
“Yes. I want to be jolly. I must break loose somewhere to-night. I can’t wait till to-morrow. I was feeling splendid till Jane Foley went. Then the house began to get on my nerves, not to mention Susan Foley, with her supper at nine. Do all people in London fix their meals hours and hours beforehand? I suppose they do. We used to at Moze. But I’d forgotten. Come along, Winnie.”
“But there are no cafés in London.”
“There must be some cafés somewhere.”