For a time she looked at no more apartments, and walked through gaunt and ill-cleaned streets, through the sordid under side of life, perplexed and troubled, ashamed of her previous obtuseness. Then he looked towards his granddaughter once more, who had flounced away to the window at her greataunt’s interruption. She was nude and horribly maimed. Your maid has twenty minutes to pack your dressing case for one night, and you have the same time to change into a travelling dress. It’s just to feel—one owns one’s self. Perhaps an hour passed before she laid aside the book. "I'm at your mercy, Poll," rejoined Kneebone, abjectly. He is an awfully good sort— and now he has come to me to help him if I can.
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