d,
"Fourteen Bryanston Square." Then she slipped in and was hidden from
the gay world. She sat there, her hands on her lap staring at the three
crimson rolls in the neck of her driver. She was thinking of nothing,
nothing at all. Did she struggle to think? Only words would come,
"Martin," or "Bryanston Square," or "cab," again and again, words that
did not mean anything but physical sensations. "Martin" hot fire at the
throat, "Bryanston Square" an iron rod down the spine, and "cab" dust
and ashes in the eyes.

She tried to look at herself in the little mirror opposite her, but she
could only catch the corner of her cheek and half her hat. But she
minded less about her appearance now. If Martin could love her it did
not matter what others thought--nevertheless she pulled her hat about a
little and patted her dress. The cab stopped and she felt desperately
lonely. Did any one care about her anywhere? No, no one. She could have
cried with pity at the thought of her own loneliness.

"One and sixpence, Miss," said the cabman in so husky a voice.

She gave it to him.

"What's this?" he asked, looking at it.

"One and sixpence," she answered timidly, wondering at his sarcastic
eye.

"Oh well, o' course," he said, looking her all over.

She knew instinctively that he demanded more. She found another
sixpence. "Is that enough?" she asked.

He seemed ashamed.

"If I 'adn't a wife sick--" he began.

She ran up the high stone steps and rang a bell. The episode with the
driver had disturbed her terribly. It had shown in what a foreign world
she was. All her self-confidence was gone. She had to take a pull at
herself and say: "Why, Maggie, you might be ringing the dentist's bell
at this moment."

That helped her, and then the thought of Martin. She saw his boyish
smile and felt the warm touch of his rough hand. When the maid was
there instead of the green door, she almost said: "Is Martin in?"

But she behaved very well.

"Mrs. Mark?" she said in precisely the voice required.

The maid smiled and stood aside. And then into what a world she
entered! A world of comfort and reassurance, of homeliness and
kindliness, without parrots and fierce-eyed cats and swaying pictures
of armoured men--a world of urbanity and light and space. There was a
high white staircase with brown etchings in dark frames on the white
walls. There was a thick soft carpet and a friendly fat grandfather
clock. Many doors but none of them myster