CHAPTER XXVIII.
MARY AND LETTY.
When her landlady announced a visitor, Letty, not having yet one friend in London, could not think who it should be.

When Mary entered, she sprang to her feet and stood staring: what with being so much in the house, and seeing so few people, the poor girl had, I think, grown a little stupid.

But, when the fact of Mary's presence cleared itself to her, she rushed forward with a cry, fell into her arms, and burst out weeping.

Mary held her fast until she had a little come to herself, then, pushing her gently away to the length of her arms, looked at her.
She was not a sight to make one happy.

She was no longer the plump, fresh girl that used to go singing about; nor was she merely thin and pale, she looked unhealthy.