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.
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