"_I_ was not able to jump out, you see," said Mrs. Chater, sinking.

"Oh, you don't think I _jumped_ out--and left you? I _wouldn't_.
Besides, it is the most dangerous thing to do. That would have
prevented me in any case. I was thrown. I thought I was going to be
killed."

"You were with a young man."

"He caught me."

The words came faintly. Nearly the girl was crying. That lump in her
throat seemed to be squeezing tears from her eyes--silly tears. She
did not want Mrs. Chater's sympathy, yet could not but reflect what
disregard for her the utter absence of inquiry showed. Bitter thoughts
yet more dangerously squeezed the tears. She was a paid _thing_, that
was all--not even a servant. Mrs. Chater was on kindly terms with her
servants--had experienced the servant problem and craftily evaded it
by the familiarity that was too useful to produce contempt--knew her
maids' young men, entered into their quarrels with their young men,
read their young men's letters.



II.

Gazing through the cab window, pressed into her corner, the girl felt
herself friendless, outcast, alone. Again she told herself that she
did not want Mrs. Chater's sympathy; yet it was the studied