It was a warm day in the middle of April, a mist of green
had begun in the branches of the elms of the Green Park; and in Park Lane,
in all the balconies and gardens, wherever nature could find roothold, a
spray of gentle green met the eye. There was music, too, in the air, the
sound of fifes and drums, and all along the roadway as far as she could
see the rapid movement of assembling crowds. A procession with banners was
turning the corner of the Edgware Road, and the policeman had stopped the
traffic to allow it to pass. The principal banner blew out blue and gold
in the wind, and the men that bore the poles walked with strained backs
under the weight; the music changed, opinions about the objects of the
demonstration were exchanged, and it was some time before Esther could
gain the policeman's attention. At last the conductor rang his bell, the
omnibus started, and gathering courage she asked the way. It seemed to her
that every one was noticing her, and fearing to be overheard she spoke so
low that the policeman understood her to say Charlotte Street. At that
moment an omnibus drew up close beside them.
"Charlotte Street, Charlotte Street," said the policeman, "there's
Charlotte Street, Bloomsbury." Before Esther could answer he had turned to
the conductor. "You don't know any Charlotte Street about here, do you?"
"No, I don't.
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