ow of one's making a
guess at the direction in which one moved.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"Apple Blossom Court," she answered. "The cawfee-stand's in a street
near it--and there's a shop where I can buy things."

"Apple Blossom Court!" he ejaculated. "What a name!"

"There ain't no apple-blossoms there," chuckling; "nor no smell of 'em.
'T ain't as nice as its nime is--Apple Blossom Court ain't."

"What do you want to buy? A pair of shoes?" The shoes her naked feet
were thrust into were leprous-looking things through which nearly all
her toes protruded. But she chuckled when he spoke.

"No, I 'm goin' to buy a di'mond tirarer to go to the opery in," she
said, dragging her old sack closer round her neck. "I ain't ad a noo un
since I went to the last Drorin'-room."

It was impudent street chaff, but there was cheerful spirit in it, and
cheerful spirit has some occult effect upon morbidity. Antony Dart did
not smile, but he felt a faint stirring of curiosity, which was, after
all, not a bad thing for a man who had not felt an interest for a year.

"What is it you are going to buy?"

"I'm goin' to fill me stummick fust," with a grin of elation. "Three
thick slices o' bread an' drippin' an' a mug o' cawfee. An' then I'm
goin' to get sumethin' 'earty to carry to Polly. She ain't no good,
pore thing!"

"Who is she?"

Stopping a moment to drag up the heel of her dreadful shoe, she answered
him with an unprejudiced directness which might have been appalling if
he had been in the mood to be appalled.

"Ain't eighteen, an' tryin' to earn 'er livin' on the street. She ain't
made for it. Little country thing, allus frightened to death an' ready
to bust out cryin'. Gents ain't goin' to stand that. A lot of 'em
wants cheerin' up as much as she does. Gent as was in liquor last night
knocked 'er down an' give 'er a black eye. 'T wan't ill feelin', but he
lost his temper, an' give 'er a knock casual. She can't go out
to-night, an' she's been 'uddled up all day cryin' for 'er mother."

"Where is her mother?"

"In the country--on a farm. Polly took a place in a lodgin'-'ouse an'
got in trouble. The biby was dead, an' when she come out o' Queen
Charlotte's she was took in by a woman an' kep'. She kicked 'er out in
a week 'cos of her cryin'. The life didn't suit 'er. I found 'er cryin'
fit to split 'er chist one night--corner o' Apple Blossom Court--an' I
took care of 'er."

"Where?"

"Me cham