" And Miss Carson kept on down stairs.
"But you are not going without something on your stomach, Mary. Wait
just for a few minutes until I can get you a cup of tea. The water
is boiling."
Mary did not wait. It was already past the time when she was
expected at Mrs. Lowe's; and besides feeling a little uncomfortable
on that account, she had a slight sense of nausea, with its
attendant aversion to food. So, breaking away from Mrs. Grant's
concerned importunities, she went forth into the cold driving storm.
It so happened, that she had to go for nearly the entire distance of
six or seven blocks, almost in the teeth of the wind, which blew a
gale, drenching her clothes in spite of all efforts to protect
herself by means of an umbrella. Her feet and ankles were wet by the
time she reached Mrs. Lowe's, and the lower parts of her dress and
under-clothing saturated to a depth of ten or twelve inches.
"I expected you half an hour ago," said the lady, in a coldly polite
way, as Miss Carson entered her presence.
"The morning was dark and I overslept myself," was the only reply.
Mrs. Lowe did not remark upon the condition of Mary's clothing and
feet. That was a matter of no concern to her. It was a seamstress,
not a human being, that was before her--a machine, not thing of
sensation. So she conducted her to a room in the third story,
fronting east, against the cloudy and misty windows of which the
wind and rain were driving.
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