and deft of touch, drew a
long-wristed "kid" over Mrs. Sommers's hand. She smoothed it down over
the wrist and buttoned it neatly, and both lost themselves for a second
or two in admiring contemplation of the little symmetrical gloved hand.
But there were other places where money might be spent.

There were books and magazines piled up in the window of a stall a few
paces down the street. Mrs. Sommers bought two high-priced magazines
such as she had been accustomed to read in the days when she had been
accustomed to other pleasant things. She carried them without wrapping.
As well as she could she lifted her skirts at the crossings. Her
stockings and boots and well fitting gloves had worked marvels in her
bearing--had given her a feeling of assurance, a sense of belonging to
the well-dressed multitude.

She was very hungry. Another time she would have stilled the cravings
for food until reaching her own home, where she would have brewed
herself a cup of tea and taken a snack of anything that was available.
But the impulse that was guiding her would not suffer her to entertain
any such thought.

There was a restaurant at the corner. She had never entered its doors;
from the outside she had sometimes caught glimpses of spotless damask
and shining crystal, and soft-stepping waiters serving people of
fashion.

When she entered her appearance created no surprise, no consternation,
as she had half feared it might. She seated herself at a small table
alone, and an attentive waiter at once approached to take her order. She
did not want a profusion; she craved a nice and tasty bite--a half
dozen blue-points, a plump chop with cress, a something sweet--a
creme-frappee, for instance; a glass of Rhine wine, and after all a
small cup of black coffee.

While waiting to be served she removed her gloves very leisurely and
laid them beside her. Then she picked up a magazine and glanced through
it, cutting the pages with a blunt edge of her knife. It was all very
agreeable. The damask was even more spotless than it had seemed through
the window, and the crystal more sparkling. There were quiet ladies and
gentlemen, who did not notice her, lunching at the small tables like
her own. A soft, pleasing strain of music could be heard, and a gentle
breeze, was blowing through the window. She tasted a bite, and she read
a word or two, and she sipped the amber wine and wiggled her toes in
the silk stockings. The price of it made no differe