books, and learning, and what she called "dead old bones and rubbish."
But she loved human nature, and studied in in every phase she could.

Left at a very tender age to Dudley's sole care and protection, she had
to grow up without the enfolding, sympathetic love of a mother, or the
gay companionship of brothers and sisters. Not in the least depressed,
she started off at an early age in quest of adventure to see what the
world was like outside the four walls of their home.

Brought back, sometimes by a policeman, with whom she had already
become on the friendliest terms, sometimes in a cab in which some one
else had placed her, sometimes by a kindly stranger, she would yet slip
away again on the first opportunity, into the crush of mankind.
Punishment and expostulation were alike useless; Hal was just as
fascinated with people as Dudley was with books, and where her nature
called she fearlessly followed.

Through this roving trait she picked up an amount of commonplace,
everyday knowledge that would have dumbfoundered the clever young
architect, had he been in the least able to comprehend it. But while
he dipped enthusiastically into bygone ages, and won letters and
honours in his profession, she asked questions about life in the
present, and grappled with the problem of everyday existence and the
peculiarities of human nature, in a way that made her largely his
superior, despite his letters and honours.

And best of all was her complete understanding of him. Dudley fondly
imagined he was fulfilling to the best possible endeavours his
obligations of love and guardianship to his young sister. The young
sister, with her tender, quizzical understanding, regarded him as a