She breathed more deeply, perhaps, for a few instants; and then, quite naturally, she looked at her reflection in the sliding glass.  That hat, as she could see in the first sure speedless survey, had got the droops.  “See about you!” she said silently and threateningly, jerking her head.  The hat trembled at the motion, and was thereafter ignored.  Stealthily Jenny went back to her own reflection in the window, catching the clearly-chiselled profile of her face, bereft in the dark mirror of all its colour.  She could see her nose and chin quite white, and her lips as part of the general colourless gloom.  A little white brooch at her neck stood boldly out; and that was all that could be seen with any clearness, as the light was not directly overhead.  Her eyes were quite lost, apparently, in deep shadows.  Yet she could not resist the delight of continuing narrowly to examine herself.  The face she saw was hardly recognisable as her own; but it was bewitchingly pale, a study in black and white, the kind of face which, in a man, would at once have drawn her attention and stimulated her curiosity.  She had longed to be pale, but the pallor she was achieving by millinery work in a stuffy room was not the marble whiteness which she had desired.  Only in the sliding window could she see her face ideally transfigured.  There it had the brooding dimness of strange poetic romance.  You couldn’t know about that girl, she thought.  You’d want to know about her.  You’d wonder all the time about her, as though she had a secret....  The reflection became curiously distorted.  Jenny was smiling to herself.

As soon as the tramcar had passed the bridge, lighted windows above the shops broke the magic mirror and gave Jenny a new interest, until, as they went onward, a shopping district, ablaze with colour, crowded with loitering people, and alive with din, turned all thoughts from herself into one absorbed contemplation of what was beneath her eyes.  So absorbed was she, indeed, that the conductor had to prod her shoulder with his two fingers before he could recover her ticket and exchange it for another. “’Arf asleep, some people!” he grumbled, shoving aside the projecting arms and elbows which prevented his free passage between the seats.  “Feyuss please!” Jenny shrugged her shoulder, which seemed as though it had been irritated at the conductor’s touch.  It felt quite bruised.  “Silly old fool!” she thought, with a brusque glance.  Then she went silently back to the contemplation of all the life that gathered upon the muddy and glistening pavements below.

ii

In a few minutes they were past the shops and once again in darkness, grinding along, pitching from end to end, the driver’s bell clanging every minute to warn carts and people off the tramlines.  Once, with an awful thunderous grating of the brakes, the car was pulled up, and everybody tried to see what had provoked the sense of accident.  There was a little shouting, and Jenny, staring hard into the