Good Luck — L.T. Meade

CHAPTER I.Amongst the crowd of people who were waiting in the Out-Patients'Department of the London Hospital on a certain foggy day toward thelatter end of November might have been seen an old cherry-cheekedwoman. She had bright blue eyes and firm, kindly lips. She was alittle woman, slightly made, and her whole dress and appearance weresomewhat old-fashioned. In the first place, she was wonderfullypretty. Her little face looked something like a russet apple, so clearwas her complexion and so bright and true the light in her eyes. Herhair was snow-white, and rather fluffy in texture; it surrounded herforehead like a silver halo, adding to the picturesque effect of applecheeks and deep blue eyes. Her attire was quaint and old-fashioned.She wore a neat black dress, made without the least attempt atornament; round her neck was a snowy kerchief of somewhat coarse butperfectly clean muslin; over her shoulders a little black shawl wasfolded corner-ways, and pinned neatly with a large black-headed pin ather breast. A peep of the snowy handkerchief showed above the shawl;the handkerchief vied with the white of her hair. On her head was adrawn black silk bonnet with a tiny border of white net inside. Herhands were clothed in white cotton gloves. She stood on the borders ofthe crowd, one of them, and yet apart from them, noticeable to everyonepresent by her pretty, dainty neatness, and by the look of health whichto all appearance she possessed. This had evidently been her firstvisit to the Out-Patients' Department. Some _habitués_ of the placeturned and stared at her, and one or two women who stoodnear--burdened, pallid, ill-looking women--gave her a quick glance ofenvy, and asked her with a certain show of curiosity what ailed her.