she was not quite clear. As these mostly required
the investment of a hundred pounds or more she had not followed them up.

She paced up and down in her room. The afternoon was wearing. Soon the
man downstairs would come back and slam the door. A little later the
young lady in the City would gently enter the room behind hers and,
after washing in an unobtrusive manner, would discreetly leave for an
hour. Meanwhile nothing broke the silence, except the postman's knock
coming nearer and nearer along Portsea Place. It fell unheeded even on
her own front door, for Victoria's ears were already attuned to the
sound. It meant nothing.

She walked up and down nervously. She looked at herself in the glass.
She was pretty she thought, with her creamy skin and thick hair; her
eyes too were good; what a pity her chin was so thick. That's why Dicky
used to call her 'Towzer.' Poor old Dicky!

Shuffling footsteps rose up the stairs. Then a knock. At Victoria's
invitation, a woman entered. It was Mrs Bell, the landlady.

'Why, ma'am, you're sitting in the dark! Let me light the lamp,' cried
Mrs Bell, producing a large wooden box from a capacious front pocket.
She lit the lamp and a yellow glow filled the room, except the corners
which remained in darkness.

'Here's a letter for you, ma'am,' said Mrs Bell holding it out. As
Victoria took it, Mrs Bell beamed on her approvingly. She liked her new
lodger. She had already informed the gathering under the archway that
she was a real lady. She had a leaning for real ladies, having been a
parlourmaid previous to marrying a butler and eking out his income by
letting rooms.

'Thank you, Mrs Bell,' said Victoria, 'it was kind of you to come up.'

'Oh! ma'am, no trouble I can assure you,' said Mrs Bell, with a mixture
of respect and patronage. She wanted to be kind to her lodger, but she
found a difficulty in being kind to so real a lady.

Victoria saw the letter was from Edward and opened it hurriedly. Mrs
Bell hesitated, looking with her black dress, clean face and grey hair,
the picture of the respectable maid. Then she turned and struggled out
on her worn shoes, the one blot on her neatness. Victoria read the
letter, bending perilously over the lamp which smoked like a funnel. The
letter was quite short; it ran:

'My dear Victoria,--I am sorry I could not write before now, but I
wanted to have some news to give you. I am glad to say that I have
been able to interest the