before by guess in Westbourne Grove.

Miss Starbrow made her stand in the middle of the room, and turned her
round, while Fan glanced shyly at her own reflection in the tall cheval-
glass, almost wondering "if this be I."

"Yes, that will do well enough for the present," said her mistress. "But
your hair is all uneven, Fan, and such lovely hair to be spoilt by
barbarous neglect. Let me cut it even for you, and by-and-by we'll find
out how to arrange it. Well, no; just now it looks best hanging loose on
your back. When it grows long again, we'll put it up. Now come here to
the light, and let me, see what you're like. Nearly fifteen years old,
and pale and very thin, poor girl, which makes you look tall. Golden
hair, good features, and a very pure skin for a girl who has lived a
grimy life. And your eyes--don't be afraid to show them, Fan. If you had
not looked at me yesterday with those eyes, I should have thought no more
about you. Long lashes. Eyes grey--yes, grey decidedly, though at times
they look almost sapphire blue; but the pupils are so large--that is
perhaps the secret of their pathetic expression. That will do. You think
it strange, do you not, Fan? that I should take you into my house and
clothe you--a poor homeless girl; for I don't suppose that you can do
anything for me, and you will therefore only be an extra expense. A great
piece of folly, my friends would probably say. But don't be afraid, I
care nothing for what others say. What I do, I do only to please myself,
and not others. If I am disappointed in you, and find you different from
what I imagine, I shall not keep you, and there will be an end of it all.
Now don't look so cast-down; I believe that you are at heart a good,
pure, truthful girl. I think I can see that much in your eyes, Fan. And
there is, after all, something you can do for me--something which few can
do, or do so well, which will be sufficient payment for all I am doing