THYRZA SINGS




Lydis, too, betrayed some disturbance of thought as she pursued her
way. Her face was graver than before: once or twice her lips moved
as if she were speaking to herself.

After going a short distance along Lambeth Walk, she turned off into
a street which began unpromisingly between low-built and
poverty-stained houses, but soon bettered in appearance. Its name is
Walnut Tree Walk. For the most part it consists of old dwellings,
which probably were the houses of people above the working class in
days when Lambeth's squalor was confined within narrower limits. The
doors are framed with dark wood, and have hanging porches. At the
end of the street is a glimpse of trees growing in Kennington Road.

To one of these houses Lydia admitted herself with a latch-key; she
ascended to the top floor and entered a room in the front. It was
sparely furnished, but with a certain cleanly comfort. A bed stood
in one corner; in another, a small washhand-stand; between them a
low chest of drawers with a looking-glass upon it. The rest was
arranged for day use; a cupboard kept out of sight household
utensils and food. Being immediately under the roof, the room was
much heated after long hours of sunshine. From the open window came
a heavy scent of mignonette.

Thyrza had laid the table for tea, and was sitting idly. It was not