umbrella. But she
had known what it was to wait on such occasions before. The next 'bus
would probably be full up inside, and the next, and the next. Twenty
minutes might well be wasted before she could start on her way home,
and you have little energy left within you to care about a wetting,
when from nine o'clock in the morning until six, when it is dark,
you have been beating the keys of a typewriter. Your mind demands
but little then, so long as you can secure a peaceful oblivion.

So, in the face of others who turned back, she mounted the stairway
on to the roof of the 'bus. There she was alone, and, pulling the
tarpaulin covering around her, she seated herself on the little bench
farthest from the driver. The little bell tinkled twice,
viciously--all drivers and conductors are made vicious by a steady
rain--and they moved out into the swim of the traffic, as a steamer
puts out from its pier.

On bright evenings it was the most enjoyable part of the journey home,
this ride from Piccadilly Circus to Hammersmith. From there onwards
in the tram to Kew Bridge, it became uninteresting. The shops were
not so bright; the people not so well dressed. It always gave her
a certain amount of quaint amusement to envy the ladies in their
carriages and motor-cars. The envy was not malicious. You would have
found no socialistic tendencies in her. In her mind, utterly
untutored in the sense of logic, she found birth to be a full and
sufficient reason for possession. But there was always alive in her
consciousness the orderly desire to also be a possessor herself. It
never led her actually into a definite discontent with her own
conditions of life, irksome, wearying, exhausting though she found
them to be. But subconsciously within her was the feeling that she
was not really meant to be denied the joy of luxuries. That instinct
showed itself in many little ways. She was sometimes
extravagant--bought a silk petticoat when a cotton one would have
done just as well, but, oh heavens! it was cheap! You would scarcely
have thought it possible to buy silk petticoats at the price. And
no doubt the appearance of the silk was only superficial. But it gave
her a great deal of pleasure. When any lady stepped down from her
carriage to go into one of those West End shops, Sally always noticed
the petticoat that she wore. Women will--men too, perhaps.

But on this dismal evening, when whenever she lifted her head the
fine rain sprayed upon her