“Go it, miss!” cried one. She had only to get through this, to solace Manning as much as she could, to put such clumsy plasterings on his wounds as were possible, and then, anyhow, she would be free—free to put her fate to the test. Such apartments as she saw were either scandalously dirty or unaccountably dear, or both. She gloried in it: he needed her. When she saw however that this man was a stranger, and obviously harmless, her expression changed as though by magic. Thanks. Only the next of kin. I can’t help you a cent. She must weigh her situation. She addressed Anna with a beaming smile and a very creditable mixture of condescension and officiousness.
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