An old cotton gown, a wretched rag of a shawl, and a broken straw bonnet, constituted her sole attire.
Not an article of clothing had she more than those enumerated.
She had parted with her under garments to obtain the means of subsistence; not even a petticoat had she beneath that thin cotton gown!
When she stopped for a moment to implore alms at the Club-window, it was the first time she had ever begged. She had not recognised him who had recognised her: but the stern countenance of Greenwood, as he refused her a single penny from his immense wealth, had struck her with despair.
If the rich would not assist her, how could she hope for succour from the poor?
She hurried down the street, weak and weary as she was;—but she hurried, with a sort of shuffling pace, because she was cold, and her feet were so benumbed that she could not feel that she had any!
She passed many a brilliantly lighted shop,—many a superb Club,—many a magnificent hotel, from the underground windows of which emanated the savoury steam of delicious viands:—she beheld cheerful fires, roaring up the chimneys of the kitchens whence those odours came;—but she was starving, shivering, dying, all the same!
A carriage, with arms emblazoned on the panels, and with horses whose beauty and appointments attracted the gaze of the passengers, was standing opposite to a splendid shawl-warehouse.
Just as the poor mendicant was passing, a tall footman, carrying a gold-headed cane in his hand, pushed her rudely back, exclaiming, "Don't you see that you're in the way?"
The shivering woman cast a timid look around, and beheld an elderly gentleman handing a lady, much younger than himself, to the carriage above mentioned.