She knocked loudly.  The machine did not stop, but she was bidden to enter.

Emma was at work, one of her sister’s children sitting by her, writing on a slate.  She had expected the appearance of the landlady; seeing who the visitor was, she let her hands fall abruptly; an expression of pain passed over her features.

Adela went up to her and kissed her forehead, then exchanged a few words with the child.  Emma placed a chair for her, but without speaking.  The room was much like the other in which the sisters had lived, save that it had a brighter outlook.  There were the two beds and the table covered with work.

‘Do you find it better here?’ Adela began by asking.

‘Yes, it is. better,’ Emma replied quietly.  ’We manage to get a good deal of work, and it isn’t badly paid.’

The voice was not uncheerful; it had that serenity which comes of duties honestly performed and a life tolerably free from sordid anxiety.  More than that could not be said of Emma’s existence.  But, such as it was, it depended entirely upon her own effort.  Adela, on the evening when she first met her in the room where Mutimer lay dead, had read clearly Emma’s character; she knew that, though it was one of her strongest desires to lighten the burden of this so sorely tried woman, direct aid was not to be dreamt of.  She had taken counsel with Stella, Stella with her husband.  After much vain seeking they discovered an opportunity of work in this part of the East End.  Mr. Westlake made it known to Emma; she acknowledged that it would be better than the over-swarmed neighbourhood in which she was living, and took the advice gratefully.  She had hopes, too, that Kate might be got away from her evil companions.  And indeed the change had not been without its effect on Mrs. Clay; she worked more steadily, and gave more attention to her children.

‘She’s just gone with the eldest to the hospital,’ Emma replied to a question of Adela’s.  ’He’s got something the matter with his eyes.  And this one isn’t at all well.  He ought to be at school, only he’s had such a dreadful cough we’re afraid to send him out just yet.  They’re neither of them strong, I’m afraid.’

‘And you—­isn’t your health better since you have lived here?’ Adela asked.

’I think so.  But I never ail much as long as I have plenty of work to do.’

‘I am staying with a friend in London,’ Adela said after a pause.  ’I thought I might come to see you.  I hoped you would still be in the same house.’

‘Yes, we are very comfortable, very,’ Emma replied.  ’I hope we shan’t need to move for a long time; I’m sure we couldn’t do better.’

She added, without raising her eyes: 

‘Thank you for coming.’

Adela knew that constraint between them was inevitable; it was enough that Emma spoke with good-will.

‘If ever you should have to move,’ she said, ’will you let me know where you go?  I have written on this paper the address of my mother’s house; I live with her.  Will you show me so much friendship?’