The Tragedy of and Appetite

Anna, notwithstanding her quiet clothes, a figure marvellously out of
accord with her surroundings, sat before a small marble-topped table
at a crowded A.B.C., and munched a roll and butter with hearty
appetite.

"If only I could afford another!" she thought regretfully. "I wonder
why I am always hungry nowadays. It is so ridiculous."

She lingered over her tea, and glancing around, a sudden reflection on
the change in her surroundings from the scene of her last night's
supper brought a faint, humorous smile to her lips.

"In two days," she reflected, "Mrs. White will present her bill. I
have one shilling and sevenpence halfpenny left. I have two days in
which to earn nearly thirty shillings--that is with no dinners, and
get a situation. I fancy that this is a little more than playing at
Bohemianism."

"So far," she continued, eyeing hungrily the last morsel of roll which
lay upon her plate, "my only chance of occupation has lain with a
photographer who engaged me on the spot and insulted me in half an
hour. What beasts men are! I cannot typewrite, my three stories are
still wandering round, two milliners have refused me as a lay figure
because business was so bad. I am no use for a clerk, because I do not
understand shorthand. After all, I fancy that I shall have to apply
for a situation as a nursery governess who understands French. Faugh!"

She took up the last morsel of roll, and held it delicately between
her long slim fingers. Then her white teeth gleamed, and her excuse
for remaining any longer before that little marble table was gone. She
rose, paid her bill, and turned westwards.