"There's the house," said Jack, pointing to a pretty cottage, the small wooden porch of which was covered with roses and creepers, with a little trim garden in front of it. Stanley, consenting with dignity. She turned back to Gerald, holding out her hand. When first brought under consideration, she was a miserable and forlorn object; squalid in attire, haggard in looks, and emaciated in frame. He turned the water off and handed her a towel. It did not occur to her that they at least had found a way of earning a living, and had that much economic superiority to herself. The oblique ruddy lighting distorted them oddly, made queer bars and patches of shadow upon their clothes. But in that reservation it may be she went a little beyond the converse of his view.
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