Lady John laid her hand on Miss Levering's shoulder.

'Perhaps, after all, he did,' she said. 'Why do I waste time over myself? I belonged to the little cla.s.s of armed women. My body wasn't born weak, and my spirit wasn't broken by the _habit_ of slavery. But, as Mrs. Heriot was kind enough to hint, I do know something about the possible fate of homeless girls. What was true a dozen years ago is true to-day. There are pleasant parks, museums, free libraries in our great rich London, and not one single place where dest.i.tute women can be sure of work that isn't killing, or food that isn't worse than prison fare.

That's why women ought not to sleep o' nights till this Shelter stands spreading out wide arms.'

'No, no,' said the girl, jumping up.

'Even when it's built,'--Mrs. Heriot was angrily gathering up her gloves, her fan and her Prayer-book--'you'll see! Many of those creatures will prefer the life they lead. They _like_ it. A woman told me--one of the sort that knows--told me many of them like it so much that they are indifferent to the risk of being sent to prison. "_It gives them a rest_,"' she said.

'A rest!' breathed Lady John, horror-struck.

Miss Levering glanced at the clock as she rose to go upstairs, while Lady John and Mrs. Heriot bent their heads over the plan covertly talking.

Jean ran forward and caught the tall grey figure on the lower step.

'I want to begin to understand something of----,' she began in a beseeching tone. 'I'm horribly ignorant.'

Miss Levering looked down upon her searchingly. 'I'm a rather busy person,' she said.

'I have a quite special reason for wanting _not_ to be ignorant. I'll go to town to-morrow,' said Jean, impulsively, 'if you'll come and lunch with me--or let me come to you.'

'Jean!' It was Aunt Lydia's voice.

'I must go and put my hat on,' said Miss Levering, hurrying up the stair.

Mrs. Heriot bent towards her sister and half whispered, 'How little she minds talking about horrors!'

'They turn me cold. Ugh! I wonder if she's signed the visitor's book.'

Lady John rose with hara.s.sed look. 'Such foolishness John's new plan of keeping it in the lobby. It's twice as likely to be forgotten.'

'For all her Shelter schemes, she's a hard woman,' said Aunt Lydia.

'Miss Levering is!' exclaimed Jean.

'Oh, of course _you_ won't think so. She has angled very adroitly for your sympathy.'

'She doesn't look----' protested the girl.

Lady John, glancing at her niece, seemed in some intangible way to take alarm.

'I'm not sure but what she does. Her mouth--always like this--as if she were holding back something by main force.'

'Well, so she is,' slipped out from between Aunt Lydia's thin lips as Lady John disappeared into the lobby.

'Why haven't I seen Miss Levering before this summer?' Jean asked.

'Oh, she's lived abroad.' The lady was debating with herself. 'You don't know about her, I suppose?'

'I don't know how Aunt Ellen came across her, if that's what you mean.'

'Her father was a person everybody knew. One of his daughters made a very good marriage. But this one--I didn't bargain for you and Hermione getting mixed up with her.'

'I don't see that we're either of us---- But Miss Levering seems to go everywhere. Why shouldn't she?'

With sudden emphasis, 'You mustn't ask her to Eaton Square,' said Aunt Lydia.

'I have.'

Mrs. Heriot half rose from her seat. 'Then you'll have to get out of it!'

'Why?'

'I am sure your grandfather would agree with me. I warn you I won't stand by and see that woman getting you into her clutches.'

'Clutches? Why should you think she wants me in her clutches?'

'Just for the pleasure of clutching! She's the kind that's never satisfied till she has everybody in the pitiful state your Aunt Ellen's in about her. Richard Farnborough, too, just on the very verge of asking Hermione to marry him!'

'Oh, is that it?' the girl smiled wisely.

'No!' Too late Mrs. Heriot saw her misstep. 'That's _not_ it! And I am sure, if Mr. Stonor knew what I do, he would agree with me that you must not ask her to the house.'

'Of course I'd do anything he asked me to. But he would give me a reason. And a very good reason, too!' The pretty face was very stubborn.

Aunt Lydia's wore the inflamed look not so much of one who is angry as of a person who has a cold in the head.

'I'll give you the reason!' she said. 'It's not a thing I should have preferred to tell you, but I know how difficult you are to guide--so I suppose you'll have to know.' She looked round and lowered her voice.

'It was ten or twelve years ago. I found her horribly ill in a lonely Welsh farmhouse.'

'Miss Levering?'

Mrs. Heriot nodded. 'We had taken the Manor for that August. The farmer's wife was frightened, and begged me to go and see what I thought. I soon saw how it was--I thought she was dying.'

'_Dying?_ What was the----'

'I got no more out of her than the farmer's wife did. She had no letters. There had been no one to see her except a man down from London, a shady-looking doctor--nameless, of course. And then this result. The farmer and his wife, highly respectable people, were incensed. They were for turning the girl out.'

'_Oh_! but----'

'Yes. Pitiless some of these people are! Although she had forfeited all claim--still she was a daughter of Sir Hervey Levering. I insisted they should treat the girl humanely, and we became friends--that is, "sort of." In spite of all I did for her----'

'What did you do?'

'I--I've told you, and I lent her money. No small sum either----'

'Has she never paid it back?'

'Oh, yes; after a time. But I _always_ kept her secret--as much as I knew.'

'But you've been telling me----'