Nana could spot Victor Fauconnier, the laundress's son and they would exchange kisses in dark corners.

It never went farther than that, but they told each other some tall tales.
Then when the sun set, the great delight of these young hussies was to stop and look at the mountebanks.

Conjurors and strong men turned up and spread threadbare carpets on the soil of the avenue.

Loungers collected and a circle formed whilst the mountebank in the centre tried his muscles under his faded tights.

Nana and Pauline would stand for hours in the thickest part of the crowd.