My resources, I explained, were twopence, and I got into the tram, feeling as though the eyes of all the world were on me.

“Fares, please,” said the conductor, and then I surprised myself.

Something inside me asserted itself, and I leaned forward in my best social manner, in marked contrast to my dilapidated clothes, and handed the conductor the counter.

“Stop outside the casual ward, if you please,” I said.

The woman next to me edged farther along the seat, but none of the others took any notice. The conductor beamed at me genially, answered “Certainly, Miss,” and gave me a ticket.

I was awfully glad he called me “Miss,” because it seemed to show that those other outcasts who had handed him their counters had been treated just as nicely.