about her. It was so utterly unromantic ashore--docks, wharves,
miserable buildings and brown fields, very distant. She remembered that
Queen Elizabeth had reviewed her troops at Tilbury when she was getting
ready for the Armada to land; she had expected that the glamour of that
ancient pageant would hang about Tilbury. And there was no glamour at
all--except, perhaps, in the ships that lay at anchor and the barges
that glided by; they were glamorous enough with their aura of far lands
and strange merchandise.

She became aware that the girl with the consumptive sister was looking
at her, and must have heard the boy's remark.

"People here seem very rude," she remarked.

"That they are! Saying she had consumption--I know it was consumption
though they wrote it down in funny words. Other folks said she had
consumption too--sauce! And now she's all alone there, and I'm here."

"What made you come," asked Marcella, "if you didn't want to leave her?"

"_I_ do' know. Fed up, that's about it," said the girl resignedly. "I
wisht I hadn't come an' left her now, though. Her not being strong--mind
you, it's all my eye to talk about consumption, but her best friend
couldn't say as she was strong. Oh, dear, I do wisht I hadn't left her."

For half an hour the thin girl argued with Marcella--a very one-sided
argument--explaining in detail that her sister could not possibly have
consumption, but that the doctor who had refused to pass her as an
emigrant must have had a spite against her--simply must have had.
Otherwise why didn't he pass her? What was it to him? Marcella was very