Merely in hearing his
news she was blanched with dread. She could only point to the door
of the front room--the only one rented by the family since Jane
Snowdon's occupation of the other had taught them to be as
economical in this respect as their neighbours were.
Sidney knocked and entered. Two months had passed since his latest
visit, and he observed that in the meantime everything had become
more squalid. The floor, the window, the furniture, were not kept so
clean as formerly--inevitable result of the overcrowding of a
room; the air was bad, the children looked untidy. The large bed had
not been set in order since last night; in it lay the baby, crying
as always, ailing as it had done from the day of its birth. John
Hewett was engaged in mending one of the chairs, of which the legs
had become loose. He looked with surprise at the visitor, and at
once averted his face sullenly.
'Mr. Hewett,' Kirkwood began, without form of greeting, 'on Saturday
morning I heard something that I believe I ought to have let you
know at once. I felt, though, that it was hardly my business; and
somehow we haven't been quite so open with each other just lately as
we used to be.
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