"Yes, it would be far the best," she replied, in the tired, tormented voice of those who had given up all hope. When everyone had gone to sleep, I sat down to write to my friend. Trembling with excitement and haste, repeating the same thing over and over again, I asked him to send me the money to go to London. His answer arrived two days later--lines so full of tenderness, readiness, and devotion, that the tears thronged into my eyes. "Would I not arrange to see him before I went away?" he asked at the end. But of that I would not think. I knew the charm, the power of his eyes, and trembled for my victory so hardly won. Chapter XIV London, terrible, magnificent London, to my eyes like a huge monster, moving countless fangs in countless directions. I walked along, stunned, benumbed, dazzled as it were, with neither feeling nor thought, just shrinking a little when I saw the frail figure of a paper-boy slip through the mass of carriages and horses, risking his life a hundred times in order to catch a single copper. And yet, if he had been crushed by the wheels of a motor, or by the hoofs of a horse, would that have mattered? The wave of pleasure and corruption would rush onward, and only in a dingy little room a pale, ragged woman might grow still a shade paler if by the break of dawn her boy had not come home. And realizing that, something within me revolted; I thought of Him in whose honour we are reverently building altars of gold, burning incense, and all at once to me He lost His glory. Was He not sleeping within a leafy bower, drunk, and forgetful of His World? And was there nobody who dared to rouse and sober Him? The next second I was myself again. A silken gown rustled, a silver horn whistled, and people next to me laughed. Feeling very tired and shivering with cold, I longed for shelter and rest. At last, after much asking and useless running here and there, I found a cheap German home for young girls. My limbs were trembling, and I could hardly stand when I was shown into the room of the directress. I remained on the threshold for a few minutes, so sweet and pleasing to me was the sight of that cosily furnished place. All was softness and luxury; a profusion of carpets, cushions, and easy chairs around a sparkling fire. On a little table there was a vase with fresh flowers, and in a cage near by a little yellow bird was swinging to and fro. Next to the fire there sat an elderly lady, with shawls round her shoulders and shawls on her knees. I felt like sitting down, closing my eyes, and saying nothing. However, the lady told me not to sit down because my wet clothes might soil the covers or the cushions. So I remained standing, and answered her questions as precisely as I could. "Is it a situation you want?" "Yes." "And to stay here while you are looking for something suitable?" "Yes."