There were several bells. 'Curious,' he said, 'she must have let it out in floors; Wakefield and Grindlay, don't know them. Seymour? It's Mrs Brumfit's house: Oh! here it is.' He pressed a bell marked 'House.' Victoria heard with a curious sensation of unexpectedness the sudden shrill sound of the electric bell. After an interminable interval, during which Edward's hands nervously played, the door opened. A young girl stood on the threshold. She wore a red cloth blouse, a black skirt, and an unspeakably dirty apron half loose round her waist. Her hair was tightly done up in curlers in expectation of Sunday. 'Mrs Brumfit,' said Edward, 'is she in?' ''oo?' said the girl. 'Mrs Brumfit, the landlady,' said Edward. 'Don't know 'er, try next 'ouse.' The girl tried to shut the door. 'You don't understand,' cried Edward, stopping the door with his hand. 'I used to live here.' 'Well, wot do yer want?' replied the girl. 'Can't 'elp that, can I? There ain't no Mrs Brumfit 'ere. Only them there.' She pointed at the bells. 'Nobody but them and mother. She's the 'ousekeeper. If yer mean the old woman as was 'ere when they turned the 'ouse into flats, she's dead.' Edward stepped back. The girl shut the door with a slam. He stood as if petrified. Victoria looked at him with amusement in her eyes, listening to the echoes of the girl's voice singing more and more faintly some catchy tune as she descended into the basement. 'Dead,' said Edward, 'can it be possible--?' He looked like a plant torn up by the roots. He had jumped on the old ground and it had given way. 'My dear Ted,' said Victoria gently, 'things change, you see.' Slowly they went down the steps of the house. Victoria did not speak, for a strange mixture of pity and disdain was in her. She quite understood that a tie had been severed and that the death of his old landlady meant for Edward that the past which he had vaguely loved had died with her. He was one of those amorphous creatures whose life is so interwoven with that of their fellows that any death throws it into disarray. She let him brood over his lost memories until they reached Bedford Square. 'But Ted,' she broke in, 'where am I to go?' Edward looked at her as if dazed. Clearly he had not foreseen that Mrs Brumfit was not an institution. 'Go?' he said, 'I don't know.' 'Don't you know any other lodgings?' asked Victoria. 'Gower Street seems full of them.' 'Oh! no,' said Edward quickly, 'we don't know what sort of places they are. You couldn't go there.' 'But where am I to go then?' Victoria persisted. Edward was silent. 'It seems to me,' his sister went on, 'that I shall have to risk it. After all, they won't murder me and they can't rob me of much.' 'Please don't talk like that,' said Edward stiffly. He did not like this association of ideas. 'Well I must find some lodgings,' said Victoria, a little irritably. 'In that case I may as well look round near Curran's. I don't like this street much.'