ion
received by the eye; it seems to utter the weariness of unending
ineffectual toil.

Nancy had now walked as far as Newington, a district unfamiliar to
her, and repulsive. By the Elephant and Castle she stood watching the
tumultuous traffic which whirls and roars at this confluence of six
highways; she had neither a mind to go on, nor yet to return. The
conductor of an omnibus close at hand kept bellowing 'London Bridge!'
and her thoughts wandered to that day of meeting with Luckworth Crewe,
when he took her up the Monument. She had never felt more than an idle
interest in Crewe, and whenever she remembered him nowadays, it was
only to reflect with bitterness that he doubtless knew a part of her
secret,--the part that was known to Beatrice French,--and on that
account had ceased to urge his suit; yet at this moment she wished that
she had pledged herself to him in good faith. His behaviour argued the
steadfast devotion of an honest man, however lacking in refinement.
Their long engagement would have been brightened with many hopes; in the
end she might have learned to love him, and prosperity would have opened
to her a world of satisfactions, for which she could no longer hope.

It grew cold. She allowed the movements of a group of people to direct
her steps, and went eastward along New Kent Road. But when the shops
were past, and only a dreary prospect of featureless dwellings
lay before her, she felt her heart sink, and paused in vacillating
wretchedness.

From a house near by sounded a piano; a foolish jingle, but it smote her
with a longing for companionship, for friendly, cheerful talk. And
then of a sudden she determined that this life of intolerable isolation
should come to an end. Her efforts to find employment that would bring
her among people had failed simply because she applied to strangers, who
knew nothing of her capabilities, and cared nothing for her needs. But a
way offered itself if she could overcome the poor lingering vestiges of
pride and shame which hitherto had seemed to render it impossible. In
this hour her desolate spirit rejected everything but the thought of
relief to be found in new occupation, fresh society. She had endured to
the limit of strength. Under the falling night, before the grey vision
of a city which, by its alien business and pleasure, made her a mere
outcast, she all at once found hope in a resource which till now had
signified despair.

Summoning the first empty cab,