The address was that of a huge general warehouse in a narrow street turning out of Cheapside. Moira found it with some difficulty; read the name over the big windows with a feeling of pride that Jimmy should belong to such an establishment. After a little hesitation she went inside, through big swing doors, into a great warehouse stacked to the very ceiling with parcels wrapped in paper, and with cardboard boxes and bales; and with innumerable young men and elderly men and boys at work among the parcels and the bales, and here and there a figure perched at a high desk, jotting down something called to him by one of the busy figures. But no sign of Jimmy. A young gentleman without a coat lounged forward to the counter at which she stood; glanced at her quickly for a moment, and went on writing in a book. Without looking up he asked what she wanted. "Mr. James Larrance," she said, in a low voice. "I wanted to speak to him for a moment--if he's not too busy." The man glanced up quickly, and laughed; spread a piece of blotting-paper on the book, and rubbed it vigorously. Then he turned in the direction of another man, and jerked his head to beckon him. "Mr. James Larrance, if you please," he said; and laughed again, and went on with his work. The other man who had been beckoned was somewhat older than the first; moreover, he wore a coat, as showing some greater importance. He came to the counter, and lounged with one elbow upon it, and looked at the girl. "Don't you know he's gone?" he asked. "No--I didn't know that," she faltered. "Well, he has," he retorted. "The work here wasn't quite good enough for him; he'd got notions above cloth and calico, I suppose--at any rate, notions that wouldn't do here. So he decided to go away, and I suppose make a fortune for himself--eh?" He glanced at the younger man and laughed unpleasantly. "Can't I see him doing it!" replied the other, addressing the sheet of blotting-paper, and thumping it to give emphasis to his words. "Could you tell me where I should find him?" asked Moira. "I'm an old friend; I knew him years ago." "You might find him, miss, on the Hotel Embankment--enjoying the air--or he might have got an appointment as Inspector of Public Buildings--that is to say--the outside of 'em," said the younger clerk, with another laugh. "In a word, my dear--he's gone from here--and I haven't yet heard that he's got another billet. That's the long and the short of it. Good morning!" Thus the elder man as he turned away. Moira came out into the busy streets; she saw here the last chance of touching that old life gone from her. Alice unapproachable, and Jimmy wandering London friendless; the prospect was not a cheerful one. She went home to Patience, and took up again the life she had striven to change--took it up with a new humility and a new gratitude. CHAPTER II JIMMY--AND A MATTER OF FOOD