The omnibuses had begun; women were coming from market with baskets on
their arms; and she wondered if their lovers and husbands were unfaithful
to them, if they would be received with blows or knocks when they
returned. Her slightest mistakes had often, it seemed, merited a blow; and
God knows she had striven to pick out the piece of bacon that she thought
he would like, and it was not her fault that she couldn't get any money
nowhere. Why was he cruel to her? He never would find another woman to
care for him more than she did.... Esther had a good husband, Esther had
always been lucky. Two hours more to wait, and she felt so tired, so
tired. The milk-women were calling their ware--those lusty short-skirted
women that bring an air of country into the meanest alley. She sat down on
a doorstep and looked on the empty Haymarket, vaguely conscious of the low
vice which still lingered there though the morning was advancing. She
turned up Shaftesbury Avenue, and from the beginning of Dean Street she
watched to see if the shutters were yet down. She thought they were, and
then saw that she was mistaken. There was nothing to do but to wait, and
on the steps of the Royalty Theatre she waited. The sun was shining, and
she watched the cab horses, until the potboy came through and began
cleaning the street lamp.
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