When she had got the tea into the cup, she poured it into the saucer and blew on it and began to drink loudly. After two sips she plucked at a piece of bread-and-butter, conveyed it into her mouth, and before doing anything further to it, sirruped up some more tea. And in this way she went on. Her table manners convinced Mr. Prohack that her claim to respectability was authentic. "And now," said Mr. Prohack, gazing through the curtained window at the blank wall that ended above him at the edge of the pavement, so as not to embarrass her, "will you tell me why you spent the night in my area?" "Because some one locked the gate on me, sir, while I was hiding under the shed where the dustbins are." "I quite see," said Mr. Prohack, "I quite see. But why did you go down into the area? Were you begging, or what?" "Me begging, sir!" she exclaimed, and ceased to cry, fortified by the tonic of aroused pride. "No, of course you weren't begging," said Mr. Prohack. "You may have given to beggars--" "That I have, sir." She cried again. "But you don't beg. I quite see. Then what?" "It's no use me a-trying to tell you, sir. You won't believe me." Her voice was extraordinarily thin and weak, and seldom achieved anything that could fairly be called pronunciation. "I shall," said Mr. Prohack. "I'm a great believer. You try me. You'll see." "It's like this. I was converted last night, and that's where the trouble began, if it's the last word I ever speak." "Theology?" murmured Mr. Prohack, turning to look at her and marvelling at the romantic quality of basements. "There was a mission on at the Methodists' in Paddington Street, and in I went. Seems strange to me to be going into a Methodists', seeing as I'm so friendly with Mr. Milcher." "Who is Mr. Milcher?" "Milcher's the sexton at St. Nicodemus, sir. Or I should say sacristan. They call him sacristan instead of sexton because St. Nicodemus is High, as I daresay _you_ know, sir, living so close." Mr. Prohack was conscious of a slight internal shiver, which he could not explain, unless it might be due to a subconscious premonition of unpleasantness to come. "I know that I live close to St. Nicodemus," he replied. "Very close. Too close. But I did not know how High St. Nicodemus was. However, I'm interrupting you." He perceived with satisfaction that his gift of inspiring people with confidence was not failing him on this occasion.