It was almost a look of reproach.

"Do you think I'm the only fairly-educated girl in London who doesn't
know how to get a living? Haven't you ever found, in poor, wretched
little shops, girls who speak well, look different from the others?
Don't you know that there are lots of girls like me who are provided
for, well provided for at the outset, and then forgotten, or neglected,
and left to starve, to drift, to get on the best way they can? Oh,
surely you must know that! Only people like you don't care to think
about these things. And you are quite right, quite right. Why should
you?"

Suddenly the girl sprang up and made a gesture with her hands as if to
dismiss the subject. Max, watching her with eager interest, saw pass
quickly over her face a look which set him wondering on whose
countenance he had seen it before. In an instant it was gone, leaving a
look of weariness behind. But it set him wondering. Who was she? Who
were the mysterious parents of whom she knew nothing?

Carrie glanced at the door which led into the outhouse. The tapping of a
stick on the stone-flagged floor announced the approach of "Granny" at
last. The girl ran to open the door.

Max had sprung up from his chair, full of curiosity to see the old lady
of whom Carrie seemed to be somewhat in awe.

He was rather disappointed. There was nothing at all formidable or
dignified about Mrs. Higgs, who was a round-shouldered, infirm old woman
in a brown dress, a black-and-white check shawl, and a rusty black