She was very poor; but the idea of taking money from him was shocking to her. According to her theory of life, even though Sophy had been engaged to the man as his promised wife, she should not consent to accept maintenance from him or pecuniary aid till she had been made, in very truth, flesh of his flesh, and bone of his bone. Presents an engaged girl might take of course, but hardly even presents of simple utility. A shawl might be given, so that it was a pretty thing and not a shawl merely for warmth. An engaged girl should rather live on bread and water up to her marriage, than take the means of living from the man she loved, till she could take it by right of having become his wife. Such were her feelings, and now she knew that this man was about to offer her money. “We shall do very well,” she said, “Sophy and I together.” “You are very hard pinched,” he replied. “You have given up your room.” “Yes, I have done that. When I was alone I did not want so big a place.” “I suppose I understand all about it,” he said somewhat roughly, or, perhaps, gruffly would be the better word. “I think there is one thing poor people ought never to do. They ought never to be ashamed of being poor among themselves.” Then she looked up into his face, and as she did so a tear formed itself in each of her eyes. “Am I ashamed of anything before you?” she asked. “You are afraid of telling the truth lest I should offer to help you. I know you don’t have your dinner regular as you used.” “Who has dared to tell you that, Mr. Hall? What is my dinner to anybody?” “Well. It is something to me. If we are to be friends of course I don’t like seeing you go without your meals. You’ll be ill next yourself.” “I am very strong.” “It isn’t the way to keep so, to work without the victuals you’re used to.” He was talking to her now in such a tone as to make her almost feel that he was scolding her. “No good can come of that. You are sending your money down to Hastings to her.” “Of course we share everything.” “You wouldn’t take anything from me for yourself I dare say. Anybody can see how proud you are. But if I leave it for her I don’t think you have a right to refuse it. Of course she wants it if you don’t.” With that he brought out a sovereign and put it down on the table. “Indeed I couldn’t, Mr. Hall,” she said. “I may give it to her if I please.” “You can send it her yourself,” said Lucy, not knowing how else to answer him. “No, I couldn’t. I don’t know her address.” Then without waiting for another word he walked out of the room, leaving the sovereign on the table. This occurred in a small back parlour on the ground floor, which was in the occupation of the landlady, but was used sometimes by the lodgers for such occasional meetings.