Homeward bound, the six o'clock throng bumped and jostled.
Light overcoats were turned up about the ears, hats were pulled down.
Little shop-girls went fluttering by in pairs and fours, chattering, laughing.

It was a spectacle of warm-blooded humanity.
Suddenly a pair of eyes met Carrie's in recognition.

They were looking out from a group of poorly dressed girls.

Their clothes were faded and loose-hanging, their jackets old, their general make-up shabby.
Carrie recognised the glance and the girl.

She was one of those who worked at the machines in the shoe factory.