finish there. They don't go on anywhere. Outside were cabs and taxis and a line of hotel runners. It was like a country town. I took a taxi and we climbed up through the gardens, by the empty palace and the unfinished church on the edge of the cliff, and on up until we were in the high, hot, modern town. The taxi coasted down a smooth street to the Puerta del Sol, and then through the traffic and out into the Carrera San Jeronimo. All the shops had their awnings down against the heat. The windows on the sunny side of the street were shuttered. The taxi stopped at the curb. I saw the sign hotel montana on the second floor. The taxi-driver carried the bags in and left them by the elevator. I could not make the elevator work, so I walked up. On the second floor up was a cut brass sign: hotel montana. I rang and no one came to the door. I rang again and a maid with a sullen face opened the door.
"Is Lady Ashley here?" I asked.
She looked at me dully.
"Is an Englishwoman here?"
She turned and called some one inside. A very fat woman came to the door. Her hair was gray and stiffly oiled in scallops around her face. She was short and commanding.
"Muy buenos," I said. "Is there an Englishwoman here? I would like to see this English lady."
"Muy buenos. Yes, there is a female English. Certainly you can see her if she wishes to see you."
"She wishes to see me."
"The chica will ask her."
"It is very hot."
"It is very hot in the summer in Madrid."
"And how cold in winter."
"Yes, it is very cold in winter."
Did I want to stay myself in person in the Hotel Montana?
Of that as yet I was undecided, but it would give me pleasure
