Their eyelashes brought Bond Street--or at least Kensington--to mind; their shoes were mudless; their gloves had not been bought in the sales.

Of the sixth woman the less said the better.
All six women were there because their country was at war, and because they felt it to be their duty to assist it to remain at war for the present.

They were the nucleus of a committee on War Savings, and they were waiting for their Chairman, who was the Mayor of the borough.

He was also a grocer.
Five of the members were discussing methods of persuading poor people to save money.

The sixth was making spots on the table with a pen.
They were interrupted, not by the expected Mayor, but by a young woman, who came violently in by the street door, rushed into the middle of the room, and got under the table.