She had been at one time an intimate friend of Laura Stanbridge’s, and her association with that unprincipled female had done much towards leading her into evil courses.
As Peace was leaving the house with his violin under his arm, he was accosted by the girl, whose name was Emma James.
“Don’t go away like that, Charlie,” cried she, as our hero was about to leave the house. “It isn’t often we meet.”
“Well, Emma lass, how goes it with you?” returned Peace, shaking her by the hand and chucking her under the chin. “What are you doing now?”
“Nothing at all at present; business is bad and it’s a struggle with most of us—leastways, I know it is with me; but we won’t talk in front of a public bar.”
The two passed out into the street.
“You’ve been having a fine time of it lately, I hear,” said Emma James. “You’ve been to London, and all sorts of places, besides—I suppose you are well up for money.”
“You are greatly mistaken, Emma. I have made a little this time, but it’s nearly all gone.”
“Well, where do you live—which way are you going?”
“I’m living in the same house as my sister Mary.”