come inside. It's a frightfully dirty room but it's the best I have."

"But I--I must get back."

"You're in no hurry, I hope. I've so much I would like to say to you."

"What can you have? We're such strangers," she protested.

"Just now we are perhaps, but every minute we talk together makes us
less so. Please enter."

His voice was so entreating, his manner so deferential, she could not
resist. She ventured within a few steps and while he cleared a chair
from its books and papers her eyes wandered round. One end of the room
was curtained off and the opening between the curtains revealed a bed.
The furniture was not what one would expect to find in a garret. It was
good and solid but undusted and the upholstery was faded. The general
appearance was higgledy-piggledy--hand to mouth domesticity mixed up
with the work by which the young man earned, or tried to earn, his
living. No signs of a woman's neatness and touches of decoration could
be seen.

Lavinia's glances went to the owner of the garret. After all it was only
he who was of real interest. She noticed the difficulty he had in
lifting a big folio from the chair. He could hardly use his right arm.
She saw his hollow cheeks and the dark circles beneath his eyes. She
hadn't spent years in the streets amongst the poorest not to know that
his wistful look meant want of food--starvation may be.

"Won't you sit down?" he said.