“I’m Sylvia Scarlett.”
“Are you a niece of Mrs. Gustard?” the voice inquired.
“Of course not,” Sylvia scoffed. “I’m just staying here.”
“Who with?”
“By myself.”
“By yourself?” the voice echoed, incredulously.
“Why not? I’m nearly sixteen.”
This was too much for Arthur Madden, who struck a match to illuminate the features of the strange unknown. Although he did not succeed in discerning Sylvia, he lit up his own face, which she liked well enough to suggest they should go for a walk, making the proposal a kind of test for herself of Arthur Madden’s character, and deciding that if he showed the least hesitation in accepting she would never speak to him again. The boy, however, was immediately willing; the two pairs of shoulders vanished; Sylvia put on her coat and went down-stairs.
“Going out for a blow?” Mr. Gustard asked.
Sylvia nodded. “With the boy next door,” she answered.