was not one single thing--with the exception of a torn copy of
Tit-Bits--which suggested that a mind of any sort lived there. For all
that, perhaps because of that, it was neat enough.

"Yes," said the landlady, "she keeps her room tidy. Of course, she's a
country girl--comes from down my way." She said this with a dry twist of
her grim, but not unkindly, features. "If it weren't for that," she went
on, "I don't think I should care to let to one of her profession."

Her hungry eyes, gazing at Bianca, had in them the aspirations of all
Nonconformity.

Bianca pencilled on her card:

"If you can come to my father to-day or tomorrow, please do."

"Will you give her this, please? It will be quite enough."

"I'll give it her," the landlady said; "she'll be glad of it, I daresay.
I see her sitting here. Girls like that, if they've got nothing to
do--see, she's been moping on her bed...."

The impress of a form was, indeed, clearly visible on the red and yellow
tasselled tapestry of the bed.

Bianca cast a look at it.

"Thank you," she said; "good day."

With the jabbed nerve aching badly she came slowly homewards.