And Joan turned her head, in a somewhat ineffectual attempt to hide the tears that welled into her eyes. Mr. Levinger looked at her with admiration. He did not believe a word of her statement with reference to herself and Henry. Indeed, he knew it to be false, and that her denials amounted merely to a formal plea of “not guilty.” “Of course, of course,” he said; “but all the same you are a brave girl, Joan, and I am sure that it will be made up to you in some way or other. And now—what do you intend to do with yourself?” “It was of this that I wished to speak to you, sir. I want to go away from Bradmouth. I am not fit to be a governess: I don’t know enough, and there are very few people who would care to take me. But I could do as a shop-girl in London. I have a decent figure, and I dare say that they will employ me to hang cloaks on for the ladies to look at, only you see I have no money to start with.” Mr. Levinger hesitated. Her plan had great advantages from his point of view, and yet— “I suppose that you really mean to seek honest employment, Joan? Forgive me, but—you know you have been talking a little wildly once or twice this afternoon as to your being without responsibilities to anybody.” “You need not be afraid, sir,” she said, with a sad smile; “I want to earn my bread away from here, that is all. If there has been talk about me in Bradmouth, there shall be none in London, or anywhere else I may go.” “I am glad to hear it, Joan. Without some such assurance, an assurance in which I put the most implicit faith, I could never have helped you in your plan. As it is, you shall not lack for money. I will give you five-and-twenty pounds to put in your pocket, and make you an allowance of five pounds a month for so long as you require it. If you wish to go to London, I know a respectable woman who takes in girls to lodge, mostly ladies in reduced circumstances who are earning their living in one way or another. Here is the address: Mrs. Thomas, 13, Kent Street, Paddington. By the way, you will do well to get a certificate of character from the clergyman at Bradmouth; my name would carry no weight, you see. But of course, if you fall into any difficulties, you will communicate with me at once; and as I have said I propose to allow you sixty pounds a year, which will be a sufficient sum to keep you in comfort whether or no you succeed in obtaining employment. Now for the money,” and he drew his cheque-book from a drawer, but replaced it, saying, “No, perhaps gold would be more convenient.” Then he went to a small safe, and, unlocking it, extracted twenty-four pounds in sovereigns, which, with the exception of some bank-notes, was all that it contained. “Twenty-four,” he said, counting them. “I dare say that I can make up the other sovereign;” and he searched his pockets, producing a ten-shilling bit and some loose silver.