She stayed for a moment in the street marvelling at its coolness and silence. The night breeze touched her cheek caressing her. Yes, the sky blazed with stars—blazed! And the houses were ebony black, like rocks over still deep water.
Everything around her seemed to give, at regular intervals, little shudders of ecstasy—a quiver in which she also shared. She walked down the street with rapid steps, her face set with serious determination. The sooner to reach Bunny! No one impeded her. It seemed to her that as she advanced the rocks grew closer about her, hanging more thickly overhead and shutting out the stars.
She was nearing the Park. There were trees, festoons above the water making dark patterns and yet darker shadows.
Under the trees she met a woman. She stopped and the woman stopped.
"You're out late," the woman said; then as Millie said nothing but only stared at her she went on, laughing affectedly—"good evening or morning I should say. It's nearly four."
She stared at Millie with curiosity. "Which way you going? I'm for home. Great Portland Street. Been back once to-night already. But I thought I'd make a bit more. Had no luck the second time."
"Am I anywhere near Turner's Hotel?" Millie asked politely.
"Turner's Hotel, dear? And where might that be?"
"Off Jermyn Street."
"Jermyn Street! You walk down Park Lane and then down Piccadilly. Are you new to London?"