Quite ordinary. “Perhaps for me,” she added, with a sudden wistful look out of the bare high window, “a night of beginnings. Accordingly, when she arrived at the Shovels, with which, as an old haunt in her bygone days of wretchedness she was well acquainted, instead of entering the principal apartment, which she saw at a glance was crowded with company of both sexes, she turned into a small room on the left of the bar, and, as an excuse for so doing, called for something to drink. “I am sorry,” she said, “if you find the likeness unsatisfactory. Aliva Trencher.
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