A week later Jane in a white shirt-waist and white apron came down with
her white-covered basket into the glare of the town's white lights. The
night was warm and she wore no hat. Her red hair was swept back from her
forehead with a droop over the ears. She had white skin and strong white
teeth. Her eyes were as gray as the sea on stormy days. Tommy came after
her with a wooden box, which he set on end, and she placed her basket on
it. The principal stores of the small town, the one hotel and the
post-office were connected by a covered walk which formed a sort of
arcade, so that the men lounging against doorways or tip-tilted in
chairs seemed in a sort of gallery from which they surveyed the
Saturday-night crowd which paraded the street.
Jane folded up the cloth which covered her basket and displayed her
wares. "Don't stick round, Tommy," she said. "I shall do better alone."
But as she raised her head and saw the eyes of the men upon her a rich
color surged into her cheeks.
She put out her little sign bravely: