"I used to live in Berkshire." She paused, and stifled a sigh.
"My father bought a house there; we had plenty of money--I mean, at that time." She coloured and was silent again for a moment.

"My father was a business man and very lucky--for a time.

Then luck changed.

When he died, nearly six months ago, we found that he was ruined; he left very little, only a few pounds." The old man nodded again.
"I understand," he said, with neither awkward sympathy nor intrusive curiosity.
"I was an only child, and suddenly found myself alone in the world.
Oh, of course, there were relatives and friends, and some of them were kind, oh, very kind"-- once more Mr.Clendon nodded, as if he understood--"but--but I felt that I would rather make my own way.

I dare say it was foolish; there have been times when I have been tempted to--to accept help--throw up the sponge," she smiled; "but--well, Mr.
Clendon, most of us dislike charity, I suppose." "Some of us," he admitted, dryly.