Mrs. Tubbs'.

'Then I must tell him everything,' he said. To put the task upon the
poor woman would have been simple cowardice. Merely in hearing his news
she was blanched with dread. She could only point to the door of the
front room--the only one rented by the family since Jane Snowdon's
occupation of the other had taught them to be as economical in this
respect as their neighbours were.

Sidney knocked and entered. Two months had passed since his latest
visit, and he observed that in the meantime everything had become more
squalid. The floor, the window, the furniture, were not kept so clean
as formerly--inevitable result of the overcrowding of a room; the air
was bad, the children looked untidy. The large bed had not been set in
order since last night; in it lay the baby, crying as always, ailing as
it had done from the day of its birth. John Hewett was engaged in
mending one of the chairs, of which the legs had become loose. He
looked with surprise at the visitor, and at once averted his face
sullenly.

'Mr. Hewett,' Kirkwood began, without form of greeting, 'on Saturday
morning I heard something that I believe I ought to have let you know
at once. I felt, though, that it was hardly my business; and somehow we
haven't been quite so open with each other just lately as we used to
be.'

His voice sank. Hewett had risen from his crouching attitude, and was
looking him full in the face with eyes which grew momentarily darker
and more hostile.

'Well? Why are you stopping? What have you got to say?'

The words came from a dry throat; the effort to pronounce them clearly
made the last all but violent.

'On Friday night,' Sidney resumed, his own utterance uncertain, 'Clara
left her place. She took a room not far from Upper Street, and I saw
her, spoke to her. She'd quarrelled with Mrs. Tubbs. I urged her to
come home, but she wouldn't listen to me. This morning I've been to try
and see her again, but they tell me she went away yesterday afternoon.
I can't find where she's living now.'

Hewett took a step forward. His face was so distorted, so fierce, that
Sidney involuntarily raised an arm, as if to defend himself.

'An' it's you as comes tellin' me this!' John exclaimed, a note of
anguish blending with his fury. 'You have the face to stand there an'
speak like that to me, when you know it's all your own doing! Who was
the cause as the girl went away from 'ome? Who was it, I say? Haven't
been as friendly as we