It was the other’s turn to laugh now—a low, bitter laugh.
‘And you’ve got on a real Injy shawl—let me feel it! And there’s a pair of gold bracelets on your wrists! Well, I’m——!!’
This with a prolonged half whistle, expressive of utter surprise. Then she continued—
‘I don’t know who you are, or where you’re a-going, but the streets ain’t safe for the likes of you. You’d best go home, my lady!’
‘I have no home.’
‘What!’
‘What home I had I have left, never to go back. I am leaving London.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘Anywhere.’ After a moment’s pause she pointed across the river and over the house-tops, and added, ‘Out there.’
‘Friends there, I suppose?’