There were books and magazines piled up in the window of a stall a few paces down the street. Mrs. Sommers bought two high-priced magazines such as she had been accustomed to read in the days when she had been accustomed to other pleasant things. She carried them without wrapping. As well as she could she lifted her skirts at the crossings. Her stockings and boots and well fitting gloves had worked marvels in her bearing--had given her a feeling of assurance, a sense of belonging to the well-dressed multitude.

She was very hungry. Another time she would have stilled the cravings for food until reaching her own home, where she would have brewed herself a cup of tea and taken a snack of anything that was available. But the impulse that was guiding her would not suffer her to entertain any such thought.

Era davvero affamata. In un’altra occasione avrebbe messo a tacere il desiderio di cibo fino a quando non fosse tornata a casa, dove si sarebbe preparata una tazza di tè e avrebbe fatto uno spuntino con quello che aveva a disposizione. Ma l’impulso che la stava guidando non le consentiva di prendere in considerazione quel genere di pensieri.

There was a restaurant at the corner. She had never entered its doors; from the outside she had sometimes caught glimpses of spotless damask and shining crystal, and soft-stepping waiters serving people of fashion.

C’era un ristorante all’angolo. Non aveva mai varcato le sue porte; da fuori a volte aveva notato di sfuggita il candido damasco e i cristalli lucenti, e camerieri dal passo felpato servire gente alla moda.