The clock of St. Clement's Danes was chiming midnight when this was done, and she stood a moment and asked herself, “Is there anything else?” Then there was a slippered foot on the stair, and somebody knocked.
“It's only me, miss, and can I do anythink for ye?”
Glory opened the door and found Liza there, half dressed and looking as if she had been crying.
“Nothing, Liza, nothing, thank you! But why aren't you in bed?”
“I can't sleep a blessed wink to-night somehow, miss,” said Liza. And then, looking into the room, “But are ye goin' away somewhere. Miss Gloria?”
“Yes, perhaps.”
“Thort ye was—I could hear ye downstairs.”
“Not far, though—just a little journey—go back to bed now. Good-night.”
“Good-night, miss,” and Liza went down with lingering footsteps.
Half an hour or so afterward Glory heard Rosa come in from the office and pass up to her bedroom on the floor above. “Dear, unselfish soul!” she thought, and then she sat down to write another letter: