“You’ll see our A B C soon. You know. The one we go to after the Saturday pops. You’ve been to it. You came to it the day we came to Madame Schumann’s farewell. It’s just round here in Piccadilly. Here it is. Glorious. I must make the others come up once more before I die. I always have a scone. I don’t like the aryated bread. We go along the Burlington Arcade too. I don’t believe you’ve ever been along there. It’s simply perfect. Glove shops and fans and a smell of the most exquisite scent everywhere.”
“Dear me. It must be very captivating.”
“Now we shall pass the parks. Oh, isn’t the sun A1 copper bottom!”
Mrs. Henderson laughed wistfully.
“What delicious shade under those fine old trees. I almost wish I had brought my en-tout-cas.”
“Oh no, you don’t really want it. There will be more breeze presently. The bus always begins to go quicker along here. It’s the Green Park, that one. Those are clubs that side, the West End clubs. It’s fascinating all the way along here to Hyde Park Corner. You just see Park Lane going up at the side. Park Lane. It goes wiggling away, straight into heaven. We’ve never been up there. I always read the name at the corner.”
“You ridiculous chick—ah, there is the Royal Academy of Arts.”
“Oh yes, I wonder if there are any Leightons this year.”
“Or Leader. Charles Leader. I think there is nothing more charming than those landscape scenes by Leader.”
“I’ve got three bally weeks. I can see Hyde Park. We’ve got ages yet. It goes on being fascinating right down through Kensington and right on up to the other side of Putney Bridge.”