‘It is time I should tell you,’ she said, ‘that I cannot have you to live with me, John. I should perhaps have said this before. I don’t know whether you are aware what my occupation is, though of course you have always addressed your letters to me at the hospital.’ John looked with quickened interest at the close black bonnet and cloak, perceiving their difference from other people’s bonnets and cloaks as if for the first time. It was not for the first time. He had remarked it at once and always, feeling the difference. But then, in her, everything was different. ‘I know,’ he said, ‘the letters were always addressed to the hospital.’ ‘That is my profession,’ she said; ‘I am the matron. I had to take to that when I was left alone. I had two children to provide for, and myself worse than penniless. I don’t say this to claim your pity. I have always been quite able for my work, and it suited me. An idle woman I never could have been----’ There was nothing left for him to say. He might, perhaps, have shown a little feeling--for he had never heard anything about working women, and recognised it as the natural state of affairs that they should stay at home; but she quenched any sentimentality of that sort at once. ‘And then my father and mother took you off my hands,’ she said, with the same composure, ‘so that I was perfectly free. For, of course, Susie could go with me anywhere. I have been in the hospital for nine years. My rooms are very comfortable--for Susie and me: but I could not take you there. I have got lodgings for you close by.’ ‘Oh,’ said John. He thought it was a relief to hear this, but then fell back upon himself bitterly, feeling that it was a new wrong and misery. No home, not even the semblance of a shelter, no place that belonged to him. It struck him with a sense of misery and shame. ‘It is too late to take you with me, even for tea--the hours and rules are naturally very strict; but I have ordered everything for you. You will find it quite comfortable. You will have enough to do unpacking and settling yourself to-night, and to-morrow at ten you may come to the hospital. If Susie had been able, she would have come to assist us, but this is one of the busy days. She must have had a great deal to do.’ ‘Is Susan--working in the hospital, too?’ ‘She helps me. She is very good, very serviceable--being a girl, she fits into everything, and spares me a great deal of trouble.’ ‘And I suppose I fit into nothing,’ said John. ‘It is a pity you should take it up in that way; but it is true enough. A woman and her daughter can go anywhere. They are sure to be able to help each other. But a boy is quite different, as you say.’