It was just a stray meeting—a momentary friendship never to be renewed—but it put Evarne in a new frame of mind. Whether it was owing to the meal, or to having so far forgotten her own woes as to indulge in the fun of bantering another girl, or whether it was to the practical kindness and help she had received in finding a pied-à-terre, she knew not; but certainly she walked down Vauxhill Bridge Road with a considerably brighter expression than heretofore.
The number found, her knock was answered by Mrs. Burling in person. Evarne inquired after accommodation and terms.
"Are you a pro, miss?" inquired Mrs. Burling.
"A pro?"
"I mean, are you on the stage yourself? But there, I can see you ain't."
The girl acknowledged it.
"Does that matter?"
"Not a bit; come in, my dear."
Evarne entered, and trying to close her nostrils against the smell of onions that was wafted along the passage, followed Mrs. Burling into a sitting-room. This apartment was overcrowded by a suite of shiny black furniture, and decorated lavishly with antimacassars, and objects of one description and another under glass cases. The girl thought it hideous, and almost unbearable to have to live amid such surroundings.
"Take a seat, miss. I've only got a 'combined' vacant now, but next week——"