CHAPTER VII.
For a moment Denise stood bewildered on the pavement, in the sun which still shone fiercely at five o'clock. The July heat warmed the gutters, Paris was blazing with the chalky whiteness peculiar to it in summer-time, and which produced quite a blinding glare. The catastrophe had happened so suddenly, they had turned her out so roughly, that she stood there, turning her money over in her pocket in a mechanical way, asking herself where she was to go, and what she was to do.
A long line of cabs prevented her quitting the pavement near The Ladies' Paradise. When she at last risked herself amongst the wheels she crossed over the Place Gaillon, as if she intended to go into the Rue Louis-le-Grand; then she altered her mind, and walked towards the Rue Saint-Roch. But still she ha
