But she felt that it was all a kind of dumb-show,
and that under it nothing could change the person she
was or the real feeling she had about this--nothing except
being first. Ah! then she could be generous and loyal
and disinterested; then she could be really a nice person
to know, she derided herself. And as her foot touched
the little hand-bag on the floor she took a kind of sullen
courage, which deserted her when she folded the paper on
her lap and was struck again in the face with Lash and
Black's advertisement on the outside page announcing
Janet's novel in letters that looked half a foot long.
Then she resigned herself to her wretchedness till the
train sped into the glory of Paddington.
"I hope you're not bad, miss," remarked the small boy's
mother as they pushed toward the door together; "them
Banburys don't agree with everybody."
The effect upon Elfrida was hysterical. She controlled
herself just long enough to answer with decent gravity,
and escaped upon the platform to burst into a silent
quivering paroxysm of laughter that brought her overcharged
feeling delicious relief, and produced an answering smile
on the face of a large, good-looking policeman. Her laugh
rested her, calmed her, and restored something of her
moral tone.
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