The taxicab turned westwards, crossed Piccadilly Circus and proceeded along Piccadilly, its solitary occupant still gazing into the faces of the people with that same consuming interest.

It was all the same over again--the smiling throngs entering and leaving the restaurants, the smug promenaders, the stream of gaily dressed women and girls.

Bond Street was even more crowded with shoppers and loiterers.
The shop windows were as full as ever, the toilettes of the women as wonderful.

Mankind, though khaki-clad, was plentiful.

The narrow thoroughfare was so crowded that his taxicab went only at a snail's crawl, and occasionally he heard scraps of conversation.