CHAPTER III.

A VISIT TO KENTISH TOWN.


It was just before twelve o'clock next morning when Miss Merivale reached
Cadogan Mansions. She told the cabman to wait, and walked slowly up the
long flights of stone steps.

About half-way up, she met a girl coming down, with light springing steps,
buttoning a pair of shabby dogskin gloves. Her dress was shabby too, and
the little black straw hat had seen long service; but Miss Merivale only
noticed her bonnie face. It brightened the dreary staircase like a gleam
of sunshine.

It never struck her that this was the girl she had come to see. From
Pauline's words the day before, she had pictured Rhoda Sampson as a very
different sort of girl.

The flat was at the top of the high buildings, and Miss Merivale was out
of breath by the time she reached the neat front door with the electric
bell. She had not long to wait before her ring was answered by Mrs.
Richards, a thin, careworn woman, who ushered her into the sitting-room
where Miss Desborough sat at her writing-table.

She jumped up, with her pen in her hand. "Miss Merivale, what a delightful
surprise! Is Rose with you? I was so sorry to miss you yesterday, but I