Mary drew back a moment to see what was going to happen. She ought to have been utterly taken by surprise at her discovery, but she felt no emotion of that kind. She was past the feeling--life had been too full of thrilling incidents during the last few hours for that. It never occurred to the girl that she had made a mistake. In an instant her mind was made up. Very swiftly and silently she darted after Lady Dashwood, and followed her into a room at the back of the house. There was a grimy specimen of the London charwoman on the floor, scrubbing the dirty boards apparently in readiness for the laying of a roll of linoleum that stood in one corner. A bottle half filled with beer ornamented the mantelpiece, and from this the worker on the floor frequently refreshed herself, as her red face testified.

She looked up angrily as Lady Dashwood entered. The intruder had to ask her question twice before she drew a reply.

"Mrs. Speed isn't in," the woman said, "and if she was, she would not care to see any visitors as yet. We only moved in here last night, and not so much as an odd man to help for love nor money, and me fit to drop."

"I am sorry to hear that," Lady Dashwood said in her gentle manner, "I have come up from the country especially to see Mrs. Speed. Can you give me any idea what time she is likely to be back again?"

"No, I can't," was the surly reply, "not before tea-time anyway. If you like to wait in the dining-room, you can do so--you don't look the sort to go off with anything. And there's an armchair or two in there."

As Lady Dashwood turned she came face to face with Mary. She stood quite still, too utterly surprised to speak. Mary took her by the arm, and led the way to the dining-room. She pushed one of the chairs forward, and invited Lady Dashwood to sit down. Then Mary closed the door. She smiled at the helpless amazement of Lady Dashwood's face.

"Mary, my dear child, what are you doing here?" the elder lady gasped.

"I might ask you the same question," Mary said. "What you regard as a most strange coincidence has a very prosaic explanation. Oh, my dearest, if you only knew how glad I am to see you again! If you only knew how I have missed you. But I need not go into that now; there will be plenty of time presently. My dear, I have been learning things the last two days and have been making discoveries. You may not believe it, but I am glad that I came here, yes, glad, glad!"

"You are looking fairly well," Lady Dashwood observed. "A little pale and drawn, but there is something in your eyes that I never noticed before. A sort of new strength and tenderness combined, not so hard and proud. But you seem pale and tired."

Mary laughed. She had good reason to be pale and tired. She wondered what Lady Dashwood would say when she heard last night's adventure.

"I am utterly worn out," she said frankly, "and yet I am glad I came to London. You can't tell how much good it is doing me. Strange as it may seem, I am quite happy, and all the more so because I am fighting for the good of other people. Hitherto, I have never thought of anybody but myself. As you know, I came up to London with an idea of getting my own living. I was going to be very proud and independent. I had a vague idea that being a Dashwood would make the ground clear for me. I blush now to think of my ignorance and folly. But I am wandering from the point. You will recollect that Mr. Darnley offered to ask a friend of his in London to assist me.

"I refused the offer, of course, in my stupid way. But Connie Colam met me at Victoria. What I should have done without her, goodness knows. She was kindness itself to me. And in a very short time we became fast friends. Fancy me, me, giving my heart to a girl who lives in Bloomsbury, and gets her living by doing horrible drawings for a low-class paper!"

"It seems strange," Lady Dashwood murmured, "I hope that she is----"

"My dear, Connie is a lady. Oh, if you only knew how my eyes have been opened! And there is another girl, a lady, too, called Grace Cameron. But you are going to meet them and satisfy yourself that I am not degrading the great house of Dashwood. Grace Cameron is an invalid, and last night we stayed at her house very late finishing some work for her. We did not get home till past two in the morning. What do you think of that for a Dashwood?"

Lady Dashwood could not repress a smile. It seemed very dreadful and unconventional, but there was a glad, tender ring in Mary's voice that the elder lady liked.

"We walked home through the streets at that hour," Mary went on, "and when we reached our rooms th............