Winnie, overflowing with love for the handsome fellow, was prepared to look upon his mother with favourable eyes. Her imagination presented to her a Roman matron, toiling with silent patience to fit her son for a great work. There was something heroic in the thought of this unassuming person, educated in the hard school of poverty, preparing with inflexible courage the instrument for the regeneration of a people. She expected to find a powerful, stern woman whom, if it was impossible to love, she might at least admire. Winnie was sure that Mrs. Railing had a thousand interesting things to say about Bertram. “I want to know what you were like when you were a boy,” she said, in her pretty, enthusiastic way. “I want her to tell me so much.” He kissed her fingers, in the well-made gloves, and looked at her with happy pride. “Do you care for me really?” he asked. “Sometimes I can’t believe it. It seems too good to be true.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I feel so insignificant and so contemptible. I wish you knew how grateful I am to you for loving me.” From the train they had a glimpse of the Thames glistening vaguely in the sunny mist. But they came soon to long rows of little grey houses, which displayed with callous effrontery the details of their poverty. In the grimy backyards clothes were hung out to dry on lines. Winnie, anxious to see only the more cheerful side of things, turned away to occupy herself entirely with Bertram’s dark comeliness. On reaching Peckham she looked for a cab, but her lover, to whom the idea of such luxury did not occur, set out to walk; and she, remembering that in future she must resist extravagance, dutifully followed. “It’s only about a mile and a bit,” he said, stepping out briskly. At first glance Winnie was not displeased with the bustle of the street. There was a welcome freshness in the air. The pavements were thronged, the roadway noisy with the rumble of ’buses and the clatter of tradesmen’s carts; the shops were gay with all their crowded wares. After the dull respectability of South Kensington, the vivacity and the busy, strenuous eagerness were very exhilarating. The girl felt herself more in touch with humanity, and the surrounding life made her blood tingle pleasantly. She felt a singular glow as she realized what a manifold excitement there was merely in living. “I don’t think I should mind a house in the suburbs at all,” she said.