When the sisters had done their business at the boot-maker’s, and were considering what their purchase should be for Sunday’s dinner, Thyrza caught sight of Totty Nancarrow entering a shop.  At once she said:  ’I won’t be late back, Lyddy.  I’m just going to walk a little way with Totty.’

Lydia’s face showed annoyance.

‘Where is she?’ she asked, looking back.

‘In the butcher’s just there.’

‘Don’t go to-night, Thyrza.  I’d rather you didn’t.’

‘I promise I won’t be late.  Only half an hour.’

She waved her hand and ran off, of a sudden changed to cheerfulness.  Totty received her in the shop with a friendly laugh.  Mrs. Bower’s description of Miss Nancarrow as a lad in petticoats was not inapt, yet she was by no means heavy or awkward.  She had a lithe, shapely figure, and her features much resembled those of a fairly good-looking boy.  Her attire showed little care for personal adornment, but it suited her, because it suggested bodily activity.  She wore a plain, tight-fitting grey gown, a small straw hat of the brimless kind, and a white linen collar about her neck.  Totty was nineteen; no girl in Lambeth relished life with so much determination, yet to all appearance so harmlessly.  Her independence was complete; for five years she had been parentless and had lived alone.

Thyrza was attracted to her by this air of freedom and joyousness which distinguished Totty.  It was a character wholly unlike her own, and her imaginative thought discerned in it something of an ideal; her own timidity and her tendency to languor found a refreshing antidote in the other’s breezy carelessness.  Impurity of mind would have repelled her, and there was no trace of it in Totty.  Yet Lydia took very ill this recently-grown companionship, holding her friend Mary Bower’s view of the girl’s character.  Her prejudice was enhanced by the jealous care with which, from the time of her own childhood, she had been accustomed to watch over her sister.  Already there had been trouble between Thyrza and her on this account.  In spite of the unalterable love which united them, their points of unlikeness not seldom brought about debates which Lydia’s quick temper sometimes aggravated to a quarrel.

So Lydia finished her marketing and turned homewards with a perturbed mind.  But the other two walked, with gossip and laughter, to Totty’s lodgings, which were in Newport Street, an offshoot of Paradise Street.

‘I’m going with Annie West to a friendly lead,’ Totty said; ’will you come with us?’

Thyrza hesitated.  The entertainment known as a ‘friendly lead’ is always held at a public-house, and she knew that Lydia would seriously disapprove of her going to such a place.  Yet she had even a physical need of change, of recreation.  Whilst she discussed the matter anxiously with herself they entered the house and went up to Totty’s room.  The house was very small, and had a close,