“I pay, let me see, fifteen shillings a week here, and buy my food besides. I ought never to have taken this room, but it looked dreadful enough; how was I to know that I could have got one for eight in a worse place? I’ve been here four weeks; that disposes of five pounds, counting my food, though I know the woman cheats me. My bread and tea never cost ten shillings from Saturday to Saturday. There are two pounds in my purse, and the other three have melted. How many fees have I paid at registry-offices? How many women have looked me up and down when I asked for a governess’ place, have seen through me with their disapproving eyes? I don’t know and I don’t care--but I’ll care to-morrow. I’m too tired to-night from tramping in search of an engagement and too cold in this room. And I’m afraid. Afraid of meeting him in the streets and having him pass me by. I’ve no spirit. I believe I could forgive him, but in an hour I may be just as sure I never could. “The loneliness of it all frightens me, too. This room, where no one ever comes, the streets I walk all day in terror of meeting some man who knows. To-morrow I must get work. I’m losing all my courage. I’d give half my life to-night just to----” * * * * * The writing broke off, the page smeared where a quick hand had closed the book while the ink was wet. But on the other side it began again. * * * * * “Thursday. “What have I done? And why does such a simple piece of business make me feel creepy, as if I had entered into a bargain with the devil! I’m saved! I’ve found a situation! But I feel something saying to me that I would have done better to starve in the streets. “It was yesterday, two days after I last wrote in this diary. I was standing in the register’s office and two women who had wanted governesses had told me I would not do. I felt dizzy, for I had been walking too far. I leaned against the wall, too tired to go home, and the registry-office was warm. “I was not noticing anything because my head swam. I was thinking that for women like me the world had only one path, and I would die before I walked on it--any farther. I was fighting off the horror of it when some one touched me on the arm. “It was the registry woman. She had left her desk and there was no one in the room but her and me, and a middle-aged man. “‘Miss Holbeach,’ she was saying--I dared not go back to Heathcote when I found I had no right to Erle. Every one knew Andria Heathcote’s story, and Holbeach was not noticeable--‘Miss Holbeach, don’t you hear Mr. Egerton speaking to you?’” “‘I beg your pardon,’ I said, for I was stupid.