Mary Ann Wicklow chattered all the while to the general ear.

It was her pride to be the discoverer of Dahlia's terrace.
"Not for worlds would she enter the house," she said, in a general tone; she knowing better than to present herself where downright entreaty did not invite her.
Rhoda left her to count the numbers along the terrace-walk, and stood out in the road that her heart might select Dahlia's habitation from the other hueless residences.

She fixed upon one, but she was wrong, and her heart sank.

The fair Mary Ann fought her and beat her by means of a careful reckoning, as she remarked,-- "I keep my eyes open; Number 15 is the corner house, the bow-window, to a certainty." Gardens were in front of the houses; or, to speak more correctly, strips of garden walks.

A cab was drawn up close by the shrub-covered iron gate leading up to No.15.Mary Ann hurried them on, declaring that they might be too late even now at a couple of dozen paces distant, seeing that London cabs, crawlers as they usually were, could, when required, and paid for it, do their business like lightning.