ich came most of the traffic of the
street. Under it too was the mart where the landladies who have invaded
the little street exchange notes on their lodgers and boast of their
ailments.

Victoria inspected her domain. She had a very big bed, a little inclined
to creak; she had a table on a pedestal split so cunningly at the base
that she was always table-conscious when she sat by it; she had a
mahogany wash-stand, also on the triangular pedestal loved by the
pre-Morrisites, enriched by a white marble top and splasher. A large
armchair, smooth and rather treacherous, a small mahogany chest of
drawers, every drawer of which took a minute to pull out, some chairs of
no importance, completed her furniture. The carpet had been of all
colours and was now of none. The tablecloth was blue serge and would
have been serviceable if it had not contracted the habit of sliding off
the mahogany table whenever it was touched. Ugly as it was in every
detail, Victoria could not help thinking the room comfortable; its light
paper saved it and it was not over-loaded with pictures. It had escaped
with one text and the 'Sailor's Homecoming.' Besides it was restrained
in colour and solid: it was comfortable like roast beef and boiled
potatoes.

Victoria looked at all these things, at her few scattered books, the
picture of Dick and of a group of school friends, at some of her boots
piled in a corner. Then she listened and heard nothing. Once more she
was struck by the emptiness, the darkness around her. She was alone. She
had been alone a whole week, hardly knowing what to do. The excitement
of choosing lodgings over, she had found time hang heavy on her hands.
She had interminably walked in London, gazed at shop windows, read
hundreds of imbecile picture postcards on bookstalls, gone continually
to many places in omnibuses. She had stumbled upon South Kensington and
wandered in its catacombs of stone and brick. She had discovered
Hampstead, lost herself horribly near Albany Street; she had even
unexpectedly landed in the City where rushing mobs had hustled and
battered her.

Faithful to her resolve she had sedulously read the morning papers and
applied for several posts as housekeeper without receiving any answers.
She had realised that answering advertisements must be an art and had
become quite conscious that employment was not so easy to find as she
thought. Nobody seemed to want secretaries, except the limited
companies, about which