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The cheapest and least delicate provisions are heaped in the shops; the coarsest and commonest articles of wearing apparel dangle at the salesman's door, and stream from the house-parapet and windows.
At last a low whistle roused her from her dream. She looked up. Across the narrow lane, from one of the embrasures of the opposite house-parapet bright eyes were peering at her. She moved angrily to escape them. The whistle was repeated, and a head rose cautiously above the parapet.... It was Miriam's. Casting a careful look around, Pelagia went forward. What could the old woman want with her?
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