“You're very fortunate to have come to Mrs. Brockett's straight away. You mayn't think so now, because Mrs. Brockett is alarming at first, and we none of us--” she looked round her with a little laugh--“can strike the on-looker as very cheerful company. But really Madame has a heart of gold--you'll find that out in time. She's had a terribly hard time of it herself, and I believe it's a great struggle to keep things going now. But she's helped all kinds of people in her time.” Peter looked, with new eyes, at the lady so sternly sewing. “You don't know,” Miss Monogue went on in her soft, pleasant voice, “how horrible these boarding-houses can be. Mother and I have tried a good many. But here people stay for ever--a pretty good testimony to it, I think ... and then, you know, she never lets any one stay here if she doesn't like them--so that prevents scoundrels. There've been one or two, but she's always found them out ... and I believe she keeps old Mrs. Lazarus quite free of charge.” She paused, and then she added: “And there's no one here who hasn't found life pretty hard. That gives us a kind of freemasonry, you know. The Tressiters, for instance, they have three children, and he has been out of work for months--sometimes there's such a frightened look in her eyes ... but you mustn't think that we're melancholy here,” she went on more happily. “We get a lot of happiness out of it all.” He looked at her, and remembering Mrs. Monogue at dinner and seeing now how delicate the girl looked, thought that she must have a very considerable amount of pluck on her own account. “And you?” she said. “Have you only just come up to London?” “Yes,” he answered, “I'm in a bookseller's shop--a second-hand bookseller's. I've only been in London a few days--it's all very exciting for me--and a little confusing at present.” “I'm sure you'll get on,” she said. “You look so strong and confident and happy. I envy you your strength--one can do so much if one's got that.” He felt almost ashamed of his rough suit, his ragged build. “Well, I've always been in the country,” he said, a little apologetically. “I expect London will change that.” Then there came across the room Mrs. Monogue's sharp voice. “Norah! Norah! I want you.” She left him.