” “We do. “Good luck! Good luck!” She waved from the window until the bend hid him. “Well?” “You and all the rest of them are always lamenting that I do not marry. Ye gods! what a wilderness it is! Every one trying to get the better of every one, every one regardless of every one—it’s one of those days when every one bumps against you—every one pouring coal smoke into the air and making confusion worse confounded, motor omnibuses clattering and smelling, a horse down in the Tottenham Court Road, an old woman at the corner coughing dreadfully—all the painful sights of a great city, and here you come into it to take your chances. Perhaps," she added, in a whisper, as she appropriated the beforenamed article, "he has a pocket-book. I never intended it to be anything but a short story, for I had never completed even the shortest of stories unless forced to in grammar school. Her thoughts were busy with the possibilities of this break in her journey. Profligate women are never reclaimed.
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