“It’s the only place I know. My father brought me here years ago; it wasn’t like this then, or didn’t seem so.”
“Have you no plans at all?” he asked.
“No, none. I must earn a living somehow. I’ve no money, and no friends, except you, and I’ve no right to bother you. I suppose you think I’m mad to run away like this—but the life there—it wasn’t life—it was killing me.
“I don’t set up to judge people; don’t talk like that. The first thing is—you mustn’t stop in this dingy hole.”
“Where else can I go?”
“We must hunt up some decent rooms somewhere. This place would kill you.”
“Decent rooms—with a decent rent! You forget I’m a working woman. The first thing to do is to find a way to earn my living.”
He hesitated for a moment; was she playing with him, or talking in innocent earnestness?
“What about your husband?” he asked abruptly.
“Edward? I left a letter for him, telling him I had gone away and that—nothing on earth would persuade me to go back.”