“Yes, thank goodness I _am_ a woman,” Mrs. Pottage retorted. “And thank goodness you can reckonise me as such, which is more than what I could reckonise you, not if I was looking at you with two telescopes at once. Why, if I was you I’d be afraid to go out alone in case I got took by a showman for a performing flea. It’s a nine days’ wonder you never got pecked up by a sparrow; but there, I suppose even a sparrow knows what isn’t good for him.” To what heights of invective Mrs. Pottage might have risen was never to be known, because Nancy insisted on paying Miss Fewkes her bill, which enabled her to retreat to her own room and cease to oppose the departure of the luggage. “But there, perhaps it’s as well,” conceded Mrs. Pottage. “Or I _might_ have been tempted to say something a bit rude.” With the aid of the good-natured cabman the luggage was put on the four-wheeler; and an hour later Nancy waved farewell to Letizia and her hostess at London Bridge Station. CHAPTER XVII THE TWO ROADS On Monday morning with a lighter heart than she had known for many weeks Nancy left Miss Fewkes. She had ten shillings and a few odd coppers when she stepped out of the tall thin house in Blackboy Passage, carrying her dressing-case in her hand; but she had not to worry about Letizia at present, and the removal of this anxiety had revived her confidence in being soon able to get a “shop.” Meanwhile, she had to find a cheap room somewhere. This proved to be much less easy than she had expected. At first all the owners of the houses announcing apartments seemed to regard her with equal suspicion. “I don’t keep the kind of room you want,” said one. “I wouldn’t mind taking you in myself,” said another. “But my husband don’t like having women in the house.” “If you’re looking for gay rooms,” said a third with brutal directness, “you’d better try the other side of Oxford Street. You won’t find anything to suit you round here. We have to be too careful of the police.” When at last Nancy did reach a quarter where landladies appeared less dismayed by the prospect of letting to a single woman, she found that the most exorbitant prices were asked in every house. “Two pounds a week for a bedroom only,” said one. “Or if you have a latchkey, three pounds.” “But why should I pay a pound a week for a latchkey?” Nancy asked in astonishment. “Well, if you have your own latchkey, I shouldn’t make any extra charge for the gentlemen you brought home. Otherwise I’d have to charge you five shillings a head.” Nancy laughed. “But I don’t want to bring gentlemen home with me. I’m on the stage,” she explained. The stolid countenance of the woman with whom she was negotiating did not change its expression. “If you don’t want to bring men back, you don’t want a room in my house.” With this she slammed the door in Nancy’s face, obviously annoyed at the waste of her time.