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Thackeray, William Makepeace, 1811-1863

"The Best British Short Stories of 1922"

For once she was
angry with Ben.
"'Im and his crowds,' 'Im an' 'is fine lydies! 'Im an' 'is
_motor-cars_!"
After all, she did overshoot her mark; on inquiry for the hall, she was
told that she had passed it, and was obliged to retrace her steps.
No wonder she had passed it; with all she had expected at the back of
her mind! The strip of pavement outside was dark, with not so much as a
single taxi in sight; the door half-shut, the dreary vestibule
badly-lighted, empty, smelling of damp. The sodden-looking sketch of a
man in the pay-box seemed half asleep; stretched, yawned when she
spoke, pushing a strip of pink paper towards her as she gave her name.
"For two." He poked out a long neck and peered round the edge of the
box, like a tortoise from its shell.
"The other lydy wasn't not able ter come ter-night," answered Jenny
with dignity, and the beast grinned, displaying a wreckage of broken
teeth.
"Ain't not what you might call a crowd, anyway," he remarked.
She could have killed him for that! She realised the white face of a
clock, but she would not look at it.


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