a lady.”  Emilia repeated her petition, and the policeman explained the nature of women.  Not to be baffled, Emilia said, “I think your wife must be a good woman.”  Hereat the policeman laughed, arming “that the best of them knew what bad suspicions was.”  Ultimately, he consented to take her to his wife, when he was relieved, after the term of so many minutes.  Emilia stood at a distance, speculating on the possible choice he would make of a tune to accompany his monotonous walk to and fro, and on the certainty of his wearing any tune to nothing.

She was in a bed, sleeping heavily, a little before dawn.

The day that followed was her day of misery.  The blow that had stunned her had become as a loud intrusive pulse in her head.  By this new daylight she fathomed the depth, and reckoned the value, of her loss.  And her senses had no pleasure in the light, though there was sunshine.  The woman who was her hostess was kind, but full of her first surprise at the strange visit, and too openly ready for any information the young lady might be willing to give with regard to her condition, prospects, and wishes.  Emilia gave none.  She took the woman’s hand, asking permission to remain under her protection.  The woman by-and-by named a sum of money as a sum for weekly payment, and Emilia transferred all to her that she had.  The policeman and his wife thought her, though reasonable, a trifle insane.  She sat at a window for hours watching a ‘last man’ of the fly species walking up and plunging down a pane of glass.  On this transparent solitary field for the most objectless enterprise ever undertaken, he buzzed angrily at times, as if he had another meaning in him, which was being wilfully misinterpreted.  Then he mounted again at his leisure, to pitch backward as before.  Emilia found herself thinking with great seriousness that it was not wonderful for boys to be always teasing and killing flies, whose thin necks and bobbing heads themselves suggested the idea of decapitation.  She said to her hostess:  “I don’t like flies.  They seem never to sing but when they are bothered.”  The woman replied:  “Ah, indeed?” very smoothly, and thought:  “If you was to bust out now, which of us two would be strongest?” Emilia grew distantly aware that the policeman and his wife talked of her and watched her with combined observation.

When it was night she went to keep her appointment.  The girl was there, but the boy came late.  He said he had earned only a few pence that day, and would be beaten.  He spoke in a whimpering tone which caused the girl to desire a translation of his words.  Emilia told her how things were with him, and the girl expressed a wish that she had an organ, as in that case she would be sure to earn more than sixpence a day; such being the amount that procured her nightly a comfortable reception in the arms of her parents.  “Do you like music?” said Emilia.  The girl replied that she liked