Then she faced it, addressing a dainty French oath to
the necessity. "Come," she said to herself, "now it
begins to be really amusing--_la vraie comedie_." She
saw herself in the part--it was an artistic pleasure--alone,
in a city of melodrama, without a penny, only her brains.
Besides, the sense of extremity pushed and concentrated
her; she walked on with new energy and purpose. As she
turned into the Haymarket a cab drew up almost in front
of her. Through its rain-beaten glass front she recognized
a face--Kendal's. His head was thrown back to speak to
the driver through the roof. In the instant of her glance
Elfrida saw that he wore a bunch of violets in his
button-hole, and that he was looking splendidly well.
Then, with a smile that recognized the dramatic value of
his appearance at the moment, she lowered her umbrella
and passed on, unseen.
Almost gaily she walked into a pawnbroker's shop, and
obtained with perfect nonchalance five pounds upon her
mother's watch. She had no idea that she ought to dispute
the dictum of the bald young man with the fishy eyes and
the high collar. It did not occur to her that she was
paid too little. What she realized was that she had wanted
to pawn something all her life--it was a deliciously
effective extremity.
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