The chill wind whipped in and out in gusty breaths.

Homeward bound, the six o'clock throng bumped and jostled.
Light overcoats were turned up about the ears, hats were pulled down.
Little shop girls went fluttering by in pairs and fours, chattering, laughing.

It was a spectacle of warm-blooded humanity.
Suddenly a pair of eye met Carrie's in recognition.

They were looking out from a group of poorly dressed girls.

Their clothes were faded and loose-hanging, their jackets old, their general make-up shabby.
Carrie recognized the glance and the girl.