way a few paces, out of the route of persons passing
in or out of the shop. No particular play of the mental processes would
actuate them in so doing; an instinctive impulse, operating mechanically
and subconsciously, would impel them to remove themselves from the main
path of foot travel. But this woman and her acquaintance take root right
there. Persons dodge round them and glare at them. Other persons bump
into them, and are glared at by the two traffic blockers. Where they
stand they make a knot of confusion.

But does it occur to either of them to suggest that they might step
aside, five feet or ten, and save themselves, and the pedestrian classes
generally, a deal of delay and considerable annoyance? It does not. It
never will. If the meeting took place in a narrow passageway or on a
populous staircase or at the edge of the orbit of a set of swinging
doors or on a fire escape landing upon the front of a burning building,
while one was going up to aid in the rescue and the other was coming
down to be saved--if it took place just outside the Pearly Gates on the
Last Day when the quick and the dead, called up for judgment, were
streaming in through the portals--still would they behave thus. Where
they met would be where they stopped to talk, regardless of the
consequences to themselves, regardless of impediment to the movements of
their fellow beings.

Having had her say with her dear friend or her dear enemy, as the case
may be, our heroine proceeds to the corner and hails a passing street
car. Because her heels are so high and her skirts are so snug, she takes
about twice the time to climb aboard that a biped in trousers would
take. Into the car she comes, teetering and swaying. The car is no more
than comfortably filled. True, all the seats at the back where she has
entered are occupied; but up at the front there still is room for
another sittee or two. Does she look about her to ascertain whether
there is any space left? I need not pause for reply. I know it already,
and so do you. Midway of the aisle-length she stops and reaches for a
strap. She makes an appealing picture, compounded of blindness,
helplessness, and discomfort. She has clinging vine written all over
her. She craves to cling, but there is no trellis. So she swings from
her strap.

The passengers nearest her are all men. She stares at them, accusingly.
One of them bends forward to touch her and tell her that there is room
for her up forward; but