ped. I've starved and slept out of
doors. But the thing I wanted to work out is in my mind all the time--
like some machine tearing round. It wants to be finished. It never
will be. That's all."

Glad was leaning forward staring at him, her roughened hands with the
smeared cracks on them clasped round her knees.

"Things 'AS to be finished," she said. "They finish theirselves."

"How do you know?" Dart turned on her.

"Dunno 'OW I know--but I do. When things begin they finish. It's like a
wheel rollin' down an 'ill." Her sharp eyes fixed themselves on Dart's.
"All of us'll finish somethin'--'cos we've begun. You will--Polly
will--'e will--I will." She stopped with a sudden sheepish chuckle and
dropped her forehead on her knees, giggling. "Dunno wot I 'm talking
about," she said, "but it's true."

Dart began to understand that it was. And he also saw that this ragged
thing who knew nothing whatever, looked out on the world with the eyes
of a seer, though she was ignorant of the meaning of her own knowledge.
It was a weird thing. He turned to the girl Polly.

"Tell me how you came here," he said.

He spoke in a low voice and gently. He did not want to frighten her,
but he wanted to know how SHE had begun. When she lifted her childish
eyes to his, her chin began to shake. For some reason she did not
question his right to ask what he would. She answered him meekly, as
her fingers fumbled with the stuff of her dress.

"I lived in the country with my mother," she said. "We was very happy
together. In the spring there was primroses and--and lambs. I--can't
abide to look at the sheep in the park these days. They remind me so.
There was a girl in the village got a place in town and came back and
told us all about it. It made me silly. I wanted to come here, too.
I--I came--" She put her arm over her face and began to sob.

"She can't tell you," said Glad. "There was a swell in the 'ouse made
love to her. She used to carry up coals to 'is parlor an' 'e talked to
'er. 'E 'ad a wye with 'im--"

Polly broke into a smothered wail.

"Oh, I did love him so--I did!" she cried. "I'd have let him walk over
me. I'd have let him kill me."

"'E nearly did it," said Glad.

"'E went away sudden an' she's never 'eard word of 'im since."

From under Polly's face-hiding arm came broken words.

"I couldn't tell my mother. I did not know how. I was too frightened
and ashamed. Now it's too late. I shall