"Of course I should be prepared to pay a fee." ... What a wonderful way of living ... dropping a trunk full of things and going off with a portmanteau; starting life afresh in a new strange place. Miriam regarded the limber capable form outstretched on the narrow bed. This dark little enclosure, the forced companionship of the crowd of competing adventuresses, the sounds of them in the near cubicles, the perpetual sound filling the house like a sea of their busy calculations ... all this was only a single passing incident ... beyond it were the wide well-placed lives of wealthy patients. "Miss Younger is a sweet woman." Miriam's eyes awoke to affronted surprise. "You know de-er; the wan yow was sitting by at tea-time. I told you just now." "Oh" said Miriam guiltily. Miss Dear dropped her voice; "she's told me her whole story. She's a dear sweet Christian woman. She's working in a settlement. She's privately engaged to the Bishop. It's not to be published yet. She's a sweet woman." Miriam rose. "I've got to get back, I'm afraid." "Don't hurry away, dear. I hoped you would stay and have some supper." "I really can't" said Miriam wearily. "Well, perhaps we shall meet again before Thursday. You'll ask Mrs. Bailey about my box," said Miss Dear getting to her feet. "Fancy your remembering her name" said Miriam with loud cheerfulness, fumbling with the curtains. Miss Dear stood beaming indulgently. All the way down the unlit stone staircase they rallied each other about the country garden with the deck chairs. "Well" said Miriam from the street, "I'll let you know about Mrs. Bailey." "All right dear, I shall expect to hear from you; au revoir" cried Miss Dear from the door. In the joy of her escape into the twilight Miriam waved her hand towards the indulgently smiling form and flung away, singing. CHAPTER XXX 1 "Regular field-day, eh Miss Hens'n? Look here----" Mr. Orly turned towards the light coming in above the front door to exhibit his torn waistcoat and broken watch-chain. "Came for me like a fury. They've got double strength y'know when they're under. Ever seen anything like it?" Miriam glanced incredulously at the portly frontage. "Fancy breaking the _chain_" she said, sickened by the vision of small white desperately fighting hands. He gathered up the hanging strings of bright links, his powerful padded musicianly hands finding the edges of the broken links and holding them adjusted with the discoloured ravaged fingers of an artizan. "A good tug would do it," he said kindly. "A chain's no stronger than the weakest link" he added with a note of dreamy sadness, drawing a sharp sigh.