Presently she heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs, and a knock

came at her door. She rose, painfully, wearily, and moved with

difficulty; for the floor seemed to rock under her, the room to swing

round. It was Mr. Clendon.

"I'm sorry to trouble you----" he began; then he saw her face, and,

closing the door behind him, took her hand in his. "You are ill," he

said.

To attempt concealment she felt would be impossible; worse, ridiculous.

"Not ill; but very hungry," she said, forcing a smile.

He led her to the chair, and she sank into it, turning her face away

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from him. He glanced round the room quickly, took in its emptiness, the

black, cheerless grate, her attitude of utter dejection; then, without a

word, he went downstairs. To Celia, hours seemed to elapse after his

departure, but it was only a few minutes before he came up again, with

bread and other things; but it was the bread only that Celia saw. With

all her might and main, she strove to eat slowly, indifferently, the

food he pressed upon her; and as she ate, the tears of shame and of

relief coursed down her wan cheeks. He had brought fuel also; and, while

she was eating, he seemed to devote all his attention to the making of

the fire; when it was burning brightly, and she was leaning back, with

her hands covering her face, he said, gently, reproachfully: "Why didn't you come to me--why didn't you tell me?"

"I was ashamed," she said. "I knew you, too, were poor." She tried to

laugh, but the laugh was choked in her throat.

"Not too poor to help a friend," he said. "I think you have been very

wicked." He tried to speak sternly; but the "My poor child!" that broke

from him declared his sympathy. "You have lost your situation?"

"Yes; he died. And I can't find anything else," said Celia, trying to

speak calmly. "I've tried--oh, everything. I've spent all my money

advertising and answering advertisements. Look! That's my last." With a

laugh, she pushed a paper towards him. He glanced at the advertisement

and slipped the paper into his pocket. "It's modest, humble enough,

isn't it?" she said. "You see, I'm ready to do anything, secretary,

companion, housekeeper--oh, anything; even for no salary, just for bed

and board."

"I know," he said, with a nod. "It's very rarely that such an

advertisement is of any use. Everybody specializes nowadays."




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