This put another complexion on the matter. Peter waited while Jem gathered together his few belongings into his small bag, and then the two drove to the station and on finding from the station master that Meg had gone off to London by the early train that morning, Jem determined to follow by the next and was soon on his way. Peter drove home wondering what would be the end of it all. He was satisfied that Meg's friend was an honest, trustworthy young man, whose love would make him leave no stone unturned to find the lost girl. But his own heart was sad, and he paced up and down the terrace of the garden for hours that night thinking of Sheila and wondering how he could help her to be what he had believed her capable of being. CHAPTER XIX A CONTRAST MEG awoke the next morning to the sound of dripping rain. She had been dreaming of Friars Court, and had thought she was in the garden listening to the birds. When she awoke she was listening to the rain. Instead of the sun streaming in, making the white wall gleam and shine, the dirty white curtains before her window were blowing on to her bed, and she could see nothing but grey wherever she looked. A church clock chimed seven, but she was in no hurry to rise although she heard the little widow bustling about in the adjoining room which served for a parlour and kitchen, and last night for a bedroom also, for herself and her boy. Sounds from the street found their way up through the open window, and the smell of herrings which Mrs. Webb was preparing as a surprise for breakfast, was mingled with the unsavoury atmosphere below. Meg turned her face to the wall and wept. She wished she could die. There was nothing to look forward to, no work to take up her time, no books with which to beguile the hours away, and the knowledge that the only money she possessed in the world had already somewhat dwindled in her pocket during the journey, was troubling her mind. Well, when that was finished she would have to die. That was all. The cheery voice of the little widow interrupted her sad thoughts. "My dear, the breakfast is nearly cooked, and I have to be out at my work in half-an-hour's time. I've brought you some hot water. You're used to that I'll be bound." "I've a mind to stop in bed," said Meg. Mrs. Webb looked at her visitor aghast. "Stop in bed! Ain't you well?" "Oh yes, I'm well enough I suppose," said Meg drearily. "But I don't see any use in getting up. I haven't got anything to do." "You've got your work to find," said Mrs. Webb briskly. "It don't do no good to lie and fret. I take it you're just fretting, and that ain't right nor wise. Come, my dear, take my advice and get up. I've ever such a nice herring for you. You want food I guess." "Very well, I'll get up," said Meg. When she had dressed and taken her seat at the breakfast table she noticed for the first time that Mrs. Webb had got on her bonnet. "You're not going out are you?" she asked.