It was so squalid and ugly she turned away in speechless disgust.
The interior, however, offered even smaller comfort.

A rude bedstead, one leg considerably short and propped up by a half brick, stood against the board wall; a single wooden chair was opposite, and a fly-specked mirror hung over a tin basin and pitcher.

The floor sagged fearfully and the side walls lacked several inches of reaching the ceiling.

Even in the dim candle light of the evening before, the bed coverings had looked so forbidding that Molly had compromised, lying down, half-dressed on the outside; now, in the garish glare of returning day they appeared positively filthy.

And this was the best to be had; she realized that, her courage failing at the thought of remaining alone amid such surroundings.