How good was the touch of the raw silk to her flesh！ She feltlike lying back in the cushioned chair and reveling for a whilein the luxury of it. She did for a little while. Then she replacedher shoes， rolled the cotton stockings together and thrust theminto her bag. After doing this she crossed straight over to theshoe department and took her seat to be fitted.
She was fastidious. The clerk could not make her out； hecould not reconcile her shoes with her stockings， and she wasnot too easily pleased. She held back her skirts and turned herfeet one way and her head another way as she glanced down atthe polished， pointed-tipped boots. Her foot and ankle lookedvery pretty. She could not realize that they belonged to herand were a part of herself. She wanted an excellent and stylishfit， she told the young fellow who served her， and she did notmind the difference of a dollar or two more in the price so longas she got what she desired.
It was a long time since Mrs. Sommers had been fitted withgloves. On rare occasions when she had bought a pair theywere always “bargains，” so cheap that it would have beenpreposterous and unreasonable to have expected them to befitted to the hand.
Now she rested her elbow on the cushion of the glovecounter， and a pretty， pleasant young creature， delicate anddeft of touch， drew a long-wristed “kid” over Mrs. Sommers’shand. She smoothed it down over the wrist and buttonedit neatly， and both lost themselves for a second or two inadmiring contemplation of the little symmetrical gloved hand.
But there were other places where money might be spent.
There were books and magazines piled up in the windowof a stall a few paces down the street. Mrs. Sommers boughttwo high-priced magazines such as she had been accustomedto read in the days when she had been accustomed to otherpleasant things. She carried them without wrapping. As well asshe could she lifted her skirts at the crossings. Her stockingsand boots and well fitting gloves had worked marvels in herbearing—had given her a feeling of assurance， a sense ofbelonging to the well-dressed multitude.
She was very hungry. Another time she would have stilledthe cravings for food until reaching her own home， where shewould have brewed herself a cup of tea and taken a snack ofanything that was available. But the impulse that was guidingher would not suffer her to entertain any such thought.
There was a restaurant at the corner. She had never enteredits doors； from the outside she had sometimes caught glimpsesof spotless damask and shining crystal， and soft-steppingwaiters serving people of fashion.
When she entered her appearance created no surprise， noconsternation， as she had half feared it might. She seatedherself at a small table alone， and an attentive waiter at onceapproached to take her order. She did not want a profusion；she craved a nice and tasty bite—a half dozen blue-points， aplump chop with cress， a something sweet—a creme-frappee，for instance； a glass of Rhine wine， and after all a small cup ofblack coffee.
While waiting to be served she removed her gloves veryleisurely and laid them beside her. Then she picked up amagazine and glanced through it， cutting the pages with a bluntedge of her knife. It was all very agreeable. The damask waseven more spotless than it had seemed through the window，and the crystal more sparkling. There were quiet ladies andgentlemen， who did not notice her， lunching at the small tableslike her own. A soft， pleasing strain of music could be heard，and a gentle breeze， was blowing through the window. Shetasted a bite， and she read a word or two， and she sipped theamber wine and wiggled her toes in the silk stockings. Theprice of it made no difference. She counted the money outto the waiter and left an extra coin on his tray， whereupon hebowed before her as before a princess of royal blood.
There was still money in her purse， and her next temptationpresented itself in the shape of a matinee poster.
It was a little later when she entered the theatre， the play hadbegun and the house seemed to her to be packed. But therewere vacant seats here and there， and into one of them she wasushered， between brilliantly dressed women who had gonethere to kill time and eat candy and display their gaudy attire.
There were many others who were there solely for the play andacting. It is safe to say there was no one present who bore quitethe attitude which Mrs. Sommers did to her surroundings. Shegathered in the whole—stage and players and people in onewide impression， and absorbed it and enjoyed it. She laughedat the comedy and wept—she and the gaudy woman next toher wept over the tragedy. And they talked a little together overit. And the gaudy woman wiped her eyes and sniffled on a tinysquare of filmy， perfumed lace and passed little Mrs. Sommersher box of candy.
The play was over， the music ceased， the crowd filed out. Itwas like a dream ended. People scattered in all directions. Mrs.
Sommers went to the corner and waited for the cable car.
A man with keen eyes， who sat opposite to her， seemedto like the study of her small， pale face. It puzzled him todecipher what he saw there. In truth， he saw nothing—unlesshe were wizard enough to detect a poignant wish， a powerfullonging that the cable car would never stop anywhere， but goon and on with her forever.
