“She is good at that.  When she balances that pail of mortar on her head and walks off with it, her arms hanging straight at her sides—­”

But Sid Hahn’s patience was at an end.  “You’re a humourist, you are.  If I didn’t know you I’d say you were drunk.  I’ll bet you are, anyway.  You’ve been eating paprika, raw.  You make me sick.”

Inelegant, but expressive of his feelings.  But Wallie only said, “You wait.  You’ll see.”

Sid Hahn did see.  He saw next day.  Wallie woke him out of a sound sleep so that he might see.  It was ten-thirty A.M. so that his peevishness was unwarranted.  They had seen the play the night before and Hahn had decided that, translated and with interpolations (it was a comic opera), it would captivate New York.  Then and there he completed the negotiations which Wallie had begun.  Hahn was all for taking the first train out, but Wallie was firm.  “You’ve got to see her, I tell you.  You’ve got to see her.”

Their hotel faced the Corso.  The Corso is a wide promenade that runs along the Buda bank of the Danube.  Across the river, on the hill, the royal palace looks down upon the little common people.  In that day the monde and the demi-monde of Budapest walked on the Corso between twelve and one.  Up and down.  Up and down.  The women, tall, dark, flashing-eyed, daringly dressed.  The men sallow, meagre, and wearing those trousers which, cut very wide and flappy at the ankles, make them the dowdiest men in the world.  Hahn’s room and Wallie’s were on the second floor of the hotel, and at a corner.  One set of windows faced the Corso, the river, and Pest on the hill.  The other set looked down upon a new building being erected across the way.  It was on this building that Mizzi Markis worked as hod carrier.

The war accustomed us to a million women in overalls doing the work of a million men.  We saw them ploughing, juggling steel bars, making shells, running engines, stoking furnaces, handling freight.  But to these two American men, at that time, the thing at which these labouring women were employed was dreadful and incredible.

Said Wallie “By the time we’ve dressed, and had breakfast, and walked a little and everything, it’ll be almost noon.  And noon’s the time.  After they’ve eaten their lunch.  But I want you to see her before.”

By now his earnestness had impressed Hahn who still feigned an indifference he did not feel.  It was about 11:30 when Wallie propelled him by the arm to the unfinished building across the way.  And there he met Mizzi.

They were just completing the foundation.  The place was a busy hive.  Back and forth with pails.  Back and forth with loads of bricks.

“What’s the matter with the men?” was Hahn’s first question.

Wallie explained.  “They do the dainty work.  They put one brick on top of the other, with a dab of mortar between.  But none of the back-breaking stuff for them.  The women do that.”