people who, after a long day's work, had
to sit alone in chill, dreary bedrooms because they could not afford the
price of a cup of coffee and a sandwich in a restaurant, still less a
shilling for a theatre gallery.

Jocantha's mind was still dwelling on this theme when she started forth
on an afternoon campaign of desultory shopping; it would be rather a
comforting thing, she told herself, if she could do something, on the
spur of the moment, to bring a gleam of pleasure and interest into the
life of even one or two wistful-hearted, empty-pocketed workers; it would
add a good deal to her sense of enjoyment at the theatre that night. She
would get two upper circle tickets for a popular play, make her way into
some cheap tea-shop, and present the tickets to the first couple of
interesting work girls with whom she could casually drop into
conversation. She could explain matters by saying that she was unable to
use the tickets herself and did not want them to be wasted, and, on the
other hand, did not want the trouble of sending them back. On further
reflection she decided that it might be better to get only one ticket and
give it to some lonely-looking girl sitting eating her frugal meal by
herself; the girl might scrape acquaintance with her next-seat neighbour
at the theatre and lay the foundations of a lasting friendship.

With the Fairy Godmother impulse strong upon her, Jocantha marched into a
ticket agency and selected with immense care an upper circle seat for the
"Yellow Peacock," a play that was attracting a considerable amount of
discussion and criticism. Then she went forth in search of a tea-shop
and philanthropic adventure, at about the same time that Attab sauntered
into the garden with a mind attuned to sparrow stalking. In a corner of
an A.B.C. shop she found an unoccupied table, whereat she promptly
installed herself, impelled by the fact that at the next table was
sitting a young girl, rather plain of feature, with tired, listless eyes,
and a general air of uncomplaining forlornness. Her dress was of poor
material, but aimed at being in the fashion, her hair was pretty, and her
complexion bad; she was finishing a modest meal of tea and scone, and she
was not very different in her way from thousands of other girls who were
finishing, or beginning, or continuing their teas in London tea-shops at
that exact moment. The odds were enormously in favour of the supposition
that she had never seen the "Yel