Sunday, 12 December 2004 | Business

There's a woman in the Sixth Avenue subway station who always seems to be singing Amazing Grace. She wears a church dress that's belted tightly around her small waist, and she leans on one skinny leg while she sings, a two-year-old boy propped on her hip. Her voice, magnified by a microphone, is steady but not special, and I don't particularly like the tune, but I want to give her money anyway.

I walked past her on three different occasions before I finally did it, fished for silver coins and threw them in the small canvas bag at her feet. She thanked me, her mouth still near the microphone, her words bouncing off the tiles. I immediately wondered if it was rude not to have made eye contact with her, and felt a little guilty for giving her just enough money to buy a bagel.