Happily the place was cleaner than Martin's Court, and no dead cats nor
decaying vegetables poisoned what air there was. But surely somewhat
else poisoned it. The doors of dwellings on the one side and on the
other stood open, and here and there a woman or two had pressed to the
opening with her work, both to get light and to get some freshness, if
there were any to be had.

Half way down the alley, Pitt paused before one of these open doors. A
woman had placed herself as close to it as she could, having apparently
some fine work in hand for which she could not get light enough. Betty
could without much difficulty see past her into the space behind. It
was a tiny apartment, smaller than anything Miss Frere had ever seen
used as a living room; yet a living room it was. She saw that a very
minute stove was in it, a small table, and another chair; and on some
shelves against the wall there was apparently the inmate's store of
what stood to her for china and plate. Two cups Betty thought she could
perceive; what else might be there the light did not serve to show. The
woman was respectable-looking, because her dress was whole and
tolerably clean; but it showed great poverty nevertheless, being
frequently mended and patched, and of that indeterminate dull grey to
which all colours come with overmuch wear. She seemed to be
middle-aged; but as she raised her head to see who had stopped in front
of her, Betty was so struck by the expression and tale-telling of it
that she forgot the question of age. Age? she might have been a hundred
and fifty years old, to judge by the life-weary set of her features. A
complexion that told of confinement, eyes dim with over-straining,
lines of face that spoke weariness and disgust; and further, what to
Betty's surprise seemed a hostile look of defiance. The face cleared,
however, as she saw who stood before her; a great softening and a
little light came into it; she rose and dropped a curtsey, which was
evidently not a mere matter of form.

'How do you do, Mrs. Mills?' said Pitt, and his voice was very gentle
as he spoke, and half to Betty's indignation he lifted his hat also.
'This is rather a warm day!'

'Well, it be, sir,' said the woman, resuming her seat. 'It nigh stifles
the heart in one, it do!'

'I am afraid you cannot see to work very well, the clouds are so thick?'

'I thank you, sir; the clouds is allays thick, these days. Had you
business with me, Mr. Dallas?'

'Not to-day,