'How disgusting and horrible men are!' she thought, moodily staring at
the traffic. All seemed so grim, so inextricable, and vast, out there
in the grey heat and hurry, as though some monstrous devil were sporting
with a monstrous ant-heap. The reek of petrol and of dung rose to her
nostrils. It was so terribly big and hopeless; it was so ugly! 'I shall
never do anything,' thought Thyme-'never--never! Why doesn't Martin
come?'

She went into her bedroom and opened her valise. With the scent of
lavender that came from it, there sprang up a vision of her white
bedroom at home, and the trees of the green garden and the blackbirds on
the grass.

The sound of footsteps on the stairs brought her back into the
sitting-room. Martin was standing in the doorway.

Thyme ran towards him, but stopped abruptly. "I've come, you see. What
made you choose this place?"

"I'm next door but two; and there's a girl here--one of us. She'll show
you the ropes."

"Is she a lady?"

Martin raised his shoulders. "She is what is called a lady," he said;
"but she's the right sort, all the same. Nothing will stop her."

At this proclamation of supreme virtue, the look on Thyme's face was
very queer. 'You don't trust me,' it seemed to say, 'and you trust that