"He was a very fine man," continued Miss Leigh in the same half-tremulous voice--"very gifted--very clever! He would have been a great artist, I think--" "Is he dead?" the girl asked, quietly. "Yes--I--I think so--he died abroad--so they say, but I have never quite believed it--I don't know why! Come, let me show you the rooms. I am glad your name is Armitage." She led the way, walking slowly,--Innocent followed like one in a dream. They ascended a small staircase, softly carpeted, to a square landing, and here Miss Leigh opened a door. "This is the sitting-room," she said. "You see, it has a nice bow-window with a view of the garden. The bedroom is just beyond it--both lead into one another." Innocent looked in and could not resist giving a little exclamation of pleasure. Everything was so clean and dainty and well kept--it seemed to her a perfect haven of rest and shelter. She turned to Miss Leigh in eager impulsiveness. "Oh, please let me stay!" she said. "Now, at once! I have only just arrived in London and this is the first place I have seen. It seems so--so fortunate that you should have had a friend named Armitage! Perhaps--perhaps I may be a friend too!" A curious tremor seemed to pass over the old lady as though she shivered in a cold wind. She laid one hand gently on the girl's arm. "You may, indeed!" she said. "One never can tell what may happen in this strange world! But we have to be practical--and I am very poor and pressed for money. I do not know you--and of course I should expect references from some respectable person who can tell me who you are and all about you." Innocent grew pale. She gave a little expressive gesture of utter hopelessness. "I cannot give you any references," she said--"I am quite alone in the world--my people are dead--you see I am in mourning. The last friend I had died a little while ago and left me four hundred pounds in bank-notes. I have them here"--and she touched her breast--"and if you like I will give you one of them in advance payment for the rooms and board at once." The old lady heaved a quick sharp sigh. One hundred pounds! It would relieve her of a weight of pressing difficulty--and yet--! She paused, considering. "No, my child!" she said, quietly. "I would not on any account take so much money from you. If you wish to stay, and if I must omit references and take you on trust--which I am quite willing to do!"--and she smiled, gravely--"I will accept two months' rent in advance if you think you can spare this--can you?" "Yes--oh, yes!" the girl exclaimed, impulsively. "If only I may stay--now!"