Her face became quite soft in its outline; the harshness died out of her bright eyes, leaving them lovely beyond expression. Gladys felt drawn to her once more, and, leaning forward, without a moment's hesitation she kissed her on the brow. It was a very simple act, no effort to the child who had learned from her English mother to give outward expression to her feelings; but its effect on Liz was very strange. Her face grew quite red, her eyes brimmed with tears, and she threw the blanket over her head to smother the sob which broke from her lips. Then Gladys bade good-bye to the little seamstress, and slipped away down the weary stair and into the grimy street, where already the lamps were lit. Her mind was full of many new and strange thoughts as she took her way home, and it was with an effort she recovered herself sufficiently to attend to her simple duties for the evening. But when the old man and the boy came down from the warehouse, supper was ready as usual, and there was nothing remarked, except that Gladys was perhaps quieter than usual.
'Yes, I have been, and I saw your sister, Walter,' she said at last, when they had opportunity to talk alone. 'She is much better, she says, and hopes to get out soon.'
'Did you see anybody else?'
'Yes, a friend whom she called Teen; I do not know her other name,' answered Gladys.
'Teen Balfour—I ken her. An' what do you think of Liz?'
He put the question with a furtive anxiety of look and tone not lost on Gladys.
'I like her. At first I thought her manner strange, but she has a feeling heart too. And she is very beautiful.'
'You think so too?' said the lad, with a strange bitterness; 'then it must be true.'
'Why should it not? It is pleasant to be beautiful, I think,' said Gladys, with a little smile.
'For ladies, for you, perhaps it is, but not for Liz,' said Walter. 'It would be better for her if she looked like Teen.'