JOE. How?
MARY. It came on to rain, Joe—and I went into a Tube Station—and was standing by a bookstall, showing Minnie the illustrated papers—and an old lady bought one—and she took out her purse—this purse—and paid for it—and laid the purse on the board while she fumbled to pick up her skirts—and then some one spoke to her—a friend, I suppose—and—there were lots of people standing about—I don't know how it was—I was out in the street, with Minnie—
JOE. You had the purse?
MARY. Yes—
JOE. No one followed you?
MARY. No one. I couldn't run, as I had to carry Minnie.
JOE. What made you do it?
MARY. I don't know—something in me did it—She put the purse down just by the side of my hand—my fingers clutched it before I knew—and I was out in the street.
JOE. How much is there in it?
MARY. I haven't looked, Joe.