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Freda Medlincott abandoned a somewhat profitless interview with her agent and, in the worst of spirits, descended the narrow stairs leading from his office and looked out upon Shaftesbury Avenue. It is at no time a picturesque prospect but it was less so than ever on this particular morning for, during the last few minutes, the rain which had been threatening all the forenoon had begun to fall. She contemplated the immediate present with dismay. A taxicab would be an unheard-of extravagance, especially as she had no particular destination, and the sight of the over-filled omnibuses was depressing in the extreme. More distressing still, however, was the reflection that she had on a new hat and no umbrella.
"I beg your pardon."