She came at last to one called POULTRY.

'Poultry!' she thought; 'I should have remembered that--Poultry ?' And she laughed.

It was so sweet and feathery a laugh that the driver of an old four-wheeler stopped his horse.

He was old and anxious-looking, with a gray beard and deep folds in his red cheeks.
"Poultry!" she said.

"Please, am I right for the Tottenham Court Road ?" The old man answered: "Glory, no, miss; you're goin' East!" 'East!' thought Nedda; 'I'd better take him.' And she got in.