About many of these houses hung a mysterious taint as of something weakly and commonly and dustily evil; the women who negotiated the rooms looked out through a friendly manner as though it was a mask, with hard, defiant eyes. ‘What has that to say to anything?’ ‘Nothing at all,’ smiled Lucy nervously. “Don’t let them know I’m here. I shall like to think of it—whenever I feel dull. ” He gave the note to the parlormaid the next morning in an inadvertent, casual manner just as he was leaving the house to catch his London train. Gin is the poor man's friend,—his sole set-off against the rich man's luxury. She was going through with that, anyhow. She, however, had no idea of doing anything of the sort.
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