There was nothing in strolling through the busy streets, joking a little over very French picture post-cards, quizzing the passing girls, standing in a queue at Cox's, and finally drawing a fiver in mixed French notes, or in wandering through a huge shop of many departments to buy some toilet necessities.

But it was good fun.

There was a comradeship, a youthfulness, carelessness, about it all that gripped Peter.

He let himself go, and when he did so he was a good companion.
One little incident in the Grand Magasin completed his abandonment to the day and the hour.

They were ostensibly buying a shaving-stick, but at the moment were cheerily wandering through the department devoted to _lingerie_.