"Is she all right?"
"O' course she is, Lou; else what in hell'd she be doin' with me? Come on; le'me in."
The swollen eyes disappeared, and the panel was shut. There was a sound of the withdrawal of several bolts. Then the door swung open, was closed and relocked behind the newcomers, and Mary found herself in an unfurnished hall, not more than fifteen feet square, lighted by a dim lamp standing on the lowest step of a steep flight of stairs, and guarded by the owner of the swollen eyes.
At least in height, "Big Lou" was gigantic. She was fully six feet tall; she stooped a little and was extremely thin, with a hollow chest and narrow flanks, partially hidden by an old red cotton dressing-gown; but the long arms were like flails, and Lou had a temper that did not hesitate to use them as such. Her dirty brown hair was already touched with gray; she had almost no chin; her nose was a smudge in her sodden face and her cheeks were heavy with years of drunkenness. Her mouth hung loose and quarrelsome, and, as she bent over to look hard at Mary, her breath was foul.
She addressed herself, however, entirely to the black-browed Stevens.
"Where'd you git her?" she asked, as if Mary were one of the animals not gifted with articulate speech.
Stevens told of their meeting.
"Where's she from?"
The sailor gave a rapid and wholly fictitious biography.
"How old?"