her to the remoter part of Camden Town; obtaining a corner seat,
she drew as far back as possible, and paid no attention to her
fellow-passengers. At a point in Camden Road she at length
alighted, and after ten minutes' walk reached her destination in
a quiet by-way called St Paul's Crescent, consisting of small,
decent houses. That at which she paused had an exterior promising
comfort within; the windows were clean and neatly curtained, and
the polishable appurtenances of the door gleamed to perfection.
She admitted herself with a latch-key, and went straight upstairs
without encountering anyone.

Descending again in a few moments, she entered the front room on
the ground-floor. This served both as parlour and dining-room; it
was comfortably furnished, without much attempt at adornment. On
the walls were a few autotypes and old engravings. A recess
between fireplace and window was fitted with shelves, which
supported hundreds of volumes, the overflow of Yule's library.
The table was laid for a meal. It best suited the convenience of
the family to dine at five o'clock; a long evening, so necessary
to most literary people, was thus assured. Marian, as always when
she had spent a day at the Museum, was faint with weariness and
hunger; she cut a small piece of bread from a loaf on the table,
and sat down in an easy chair.

Presently appeared a short, slight woman of middle age, plainly
dressed in serviceable grey. Her face could never have been very
comely, and it expressed but moderate intelligence; its lines,
however, were those of gentleness and good feeling. She had the
look of one who is making a painful effort to understand
something; this was fixed upon her features, and probably