A girl-woman alone on Battersea Bridge, reading a letter in the December sunset--one of those mild autumnal afternoons which hang upon the skirts of winter. A girl in years--a woman in cares. Dark brown eyes set in a pale, sharply set face; mouth rosy and beautiful in form, but too firm in its lines to be altogether lovely in a woman. A girl whom the passers by look at interrogatively, wondering that so much beauty should go alone, and so poorly clad. Her clothes are not common, but shabby--a black silk dress that has once been handsome and fashionable; a black felt hat trimmed with threadbare velvet; a sealskin jacket worn bald at the edges, and dull with exposure to hard weather; gloves wh…
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