She got a bun and some cocoa in the little refreshment-room, and then wandered through the galleries up-stairs, crowded with Polynesian idols and Polynesian dancinggarments, and all the simple immodest accessories to life in Polynesia, to a seat among the mummies. She felt much better. Everybody looked askance at everybody else. At the end of two long lines of foot-guards stood the cart with a powerful black horse harnessed to it. Her whole conduct and tone had been modest and ladylike. JACK SHEPPARD. “It is a night of endings,” she murmured to herself.
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