‘It occurs to me that she might help Monica.’

‘Oh, do you think she would?’ exclaimed Virginia, with eager attention.  ‘How grateful we should be!’

‘Where is Monica employed?’

’At a draper’s in Walworth Road.  She is worked to death.  Every week I see a difference in her, poor child.  We hoped to persuade her to go back to the shop at Weston; but if this you speak of were possible—­how much better!  We have never reconciled ourselves to her being in that position—­never.’

‘I see no harm in the position itself,’ replied Miss Nunn in her rather blunt tone, ’but I see a great deal in those outrageous hours.  She won’t easily do better in London, without special qualifications; and probably she is reluctant to go back to the country.’

‘Yes, she is; very reluctant.’

‘I understand it,’ said the other, with a nod.  ’Will you ask her to come and see me?’

A servant entered with tea.  Miss Nunn caught the expression in her visitor’s eyes, and said cheerfully—­

’I had no midday meal to-day, and really I feel the omission.  Mary, please do put tea in the dining-room, and bring up some meat—­Miss Barfoot,’ she added, in explanation to Virginia, is out of town, and I am a shockingly irregular person about meals.  I am sure you will sit down with me?’

Virginia sported with the subject.  Months of miserable eating and drinking in her stuffy bedroom made an invitation such as this a veritable delight to her.  Seated in the dining-room, she at first refused the offer of meat, alleging her vegetarianism; but Miss Nunn, convinced that the poor woman was starving, succeeded in persuading her.  A slice of good beef had much the same effect upon Virginia as her more dangerous indulgence at Charing Cross Station.  She brightened wonderfully.

‘Now let us go back to the library,’ said Miss Nunn, when their meal was over.  ’We shall soon see each other again, I hope, but we might as well talk of serious things whilst we have the opportunity.  Will you allow me to be very frank with you?’

The other looked startled.

‘What could you possibly say that would offend me?’

’In the old days you told me all about your circumstances.  Are they still the same?’

’Precisely the same.  Most happily, we have never needed to entrench upon our capital.  Whatever happens, we must avoid that—­whatever happens!’

’I quite understand you.  But wouldn’t it be possible to make a better use of that money?  It is eight hundred pounds, I think?  Have you never thought of employing it in some practical enterprise?’

Virginia at first shrank in alarm, then trembled deliciously at her friend’s bold views.

‘Would it be possible?  Really?  You think—­’

’I can only suggest, of course.  One mustn’t argue about others from one’s own habit of thought.  Heaven forbid’—­this sounded rather profane to the listener—­’that I should urge you to do anything you would think rash.  But how much better if you could somehow secure independence.’