But it gave her a great deal of pleasure.

When any lady stepped down from her carriage to go into one of those West End shops, Sally always noticed the petticoat that she wore.

Women will--men too, perhaps.
But on this dismal evening, when whenever she lifted her head the fine rain sprayed upon her face, there was no pleasure to be found in watching the people in the streets below.

Carriages were huddled up in line upon the stands and the coachmen shivered miserably on their seats, the rain dripping in steady drops from the brims of their hats into the laps of their mackintoshes.

So she kept her head down, and when she heard footsteps mounting the stairway, approaching her, she held out the three coppers for her fare without looking up.