"He owns next door, too, doesn't he?"

The young woman nodded. "He's a bad landlord. All down the street 'ere
it's the same. Can't get nothing done."

The grey girl had gone over to a dirty bassinette where a half-naked
child sprawled. An ugly little girl with fat red cheeks was sitting on a
stool beside it, close to an open locker wherein could be seen a number
of old meat bones.'

"Your chickabiddies?" said the grey girl. "Aren't they sweet?"

The young woman's face became illumined by a smile.

"They're healthy," she said.

"That's more than can be said for all the children in the house, I
expect," murmured the grey girl.

The young woman replied emphatically, as though voicing an old
grievance: "The three on the first floor's not so bad, but I don't let
'em 'ave anything to do with that lot at the top."

Thyme saw her new friend's hand hover over the child's head like some
pale dove. In answer to that gesture, the mother nodded. "Just that;
you've got to clean 'em every time they go near them children at the
top."

The grey girl looked at Thyme. 'That's where we've got to go,
evidently,' she seemed to say.