The refining influence of Miss Pinwell's genteel establishment had made her loathe the low life in which her early years had been passed.
"They can't eat me," she thought.

"Besides, the poor fellow is starving." The place was fairly quiet.

One or two men of a group drinking and gossipping winked at each other when they caught sight of her pretty face, but they said nothing and she got what she asked for, a cold chicken, bread and a bottle of wine.
Lavinia hastened to Grub Street.

She ran up the dirty narrow ricketty stairs, her heart palpitating with excitement, and she knocked at the garret door.

It was opened immediately, Lancelot Vane stood in the doorway, his fine eyes beaming.