He could see that this young woman was a favourite with Sarah Newton, and he told himself that she was of a race apart from the rest; but he was agreeably surprised in finding that, except for the prevailing Cockney accent, and a few slight lapses in grammar and pronunciation, Miss Newton’s guests were quite as refined as those ladies of Dorchester with whom it had been his privilege to associate; indeed, he was not sure that he did not prefer the Cockney twang and the faulty grammar to the second-hand smartness and slang of the young ladies whose “Awfully jolly,” “Ain’t it,” and “Don’t you know,” had so often irritated his ear on tennis lawn or at afternoon tea. Here at least there was the unstudied speech of people who knew not the caprices of fashion or the latest catch word that had descended from Belgravia to Brompton, and from Brompton to the provinces. There was a great deal of talk, as Miss Newton had told him there would be; and as she encouraged all her guests to talk about themselves, he gathered a good deal of interesting information about the state of the different trades and the ways and manners of various employers, most of whom seemed to be of a despotic and grasping temper. The widows talked of their children’s ailments or their progress at the Board School; the girls talked a little, and with all modesty, of their sweethearts. Sarah Newton was interested in every detail of those humble lives, and seemed to remember every fact bearing upon the joys or the sorrows of her guests. It was a wonder to Theodore, to see how the careworn faces lighted up round the cheerful table in the lamplight. Yes, it was surely a good thing to live among these daughters of toil, and to lighten their burdens by this quick sympathy, this cheerful hospitality. Vast Pleasure Halls and People’s Palaces may do much for the million; but here was one little spinster with her small income making an atmosphere of friendliness and comfort for the few, and able to get a great deal nearer to them than Philanthropy on a gigantic scale can ever get to the many. Theodore noticed that while most other tongues babbled freely, the girl called Marian sat silent, after her task of distributing the tea was over, with hands folded in her lap, listening to the voices round her, and with a soft slow smile lighting her face now and then. In repose her countenance was deeply sad, and he found himself speculating upon the history that had left those melancholy lines upon a face that was still young. “I am much interested in your next neighbour,” he said to Miss Newton, presently, while Marian was helping another girl to clear the table. “I feel sure there must be something very sad in her experience of life, and that she has sunk from a higher level.”