s eye--'for I can give you access.
As you suggest, I have some personal knowledge about homeless girls.'

'Well, my dear'--with a manufactured cheerfulness Lady John turned it
aside--'it will all come in convenient.' She tapped the plan.

Miss Levering took no notice. 'It once happened to me to take offence at
an ugly thing that was going on under my father's roof. Oh, _years_ ago!
I was an impulsive girl. I turned my back on my father's house.'

'That was ill-advised.' Lady John glanced at her niece.

'So all my relations said'--Miss Levering, too, looked at Jean--'and I
couldn't explain.'

'Not to your mother?' the girl asked.

'My mother was dead. I went to London to a small hotel, and tried to
find employment. I wandered about all day and every day from agency to
agency. I was supposed to be educated. I'd been brought up partly in
Paris, I could play several instruments and sing little songs in four
different tongues.'

In the pause Jean asked, 'Did nobody want you to teach French or sing
the little songs?'

'The heads of schools thought me too young. There were people ready to
listen to my singing. But the terms, they were too hard. Soon my money
was gone. I began to pawn my trinkets. _They_ went.'

'And still no work?'

'No; but by that time I had some real education--an unpaid hotel bill,
and not a shilling in the world. Some girls think it hardship to have to
earn their living. The horror is not to be allowed to.'

Jean bent forward. 'What happened?'

Lady John stood up. 'My dear,' she asked her visitor, 'have your things
been sent down?'

'Yes. I am quite ready, all but my hat.'

'Well?' insisted Jean.

'Well, by chance I met a friend of my family.'

'That was lucky.'

'I thought so. He was nearly ten years older than I. He said he wanted
to help me.' Again she paused.

'And didn't he?' Jean asked.

Lady John laid her hand on Miss Levering's shoulder.

'Perhaps, after all, he did,' she said. 'Why do I waste time over
myself? I belonged to the little class of armed women. My body wasn't
born weak, and my spirit wasn't broken by the _habit_ of slavery. But,
as Mrs. Heriot was kind enough to hint, I do know something about the
possible fate of homeless girls. What was true a dozen years ago is true
to-day. There are pleasant parks, museums, free libraries in our great
rich London, and not one single place where destitute women can be sure
of work that isn't killing, or food that isn't wor