You, Primrose, might with some difficulty get a little place as a nursery governess; you are a nice, presentable-looking girl, my dear." Primrose flushed, and the tears, wrung from great pain, came into her eyes.
"There is just one thing," she said, in a tremulous voice; "whatever happens, we three girls won't be parted.

On that point I have quite firmly made up my mind." Mr.Danesfield again knit his brows, and this time he fidgeted uneasily on his chair.
"Look here, Primrose," he said: "I am an old bachelor, and I don't know half nor a quarter the ways in which a woman may earn her living.
I have always been told that a woman is a creature of resources.

Now it is a well-known fact that an old bachelor has no resources.

You go and put your question to Miss Martineau, my dear.

Miss Martineau is a kind soul--'pon my word, now, a very kind soul--and she has managed wonderfully to exist herself on absolutely nothing.