"
"Then you must get a letter from one of the subscribers."
"But I do not know any."
"You can have a book of their names and addresses."
"But I know no one."
"You needn't know them. You can go and call. Take those that live
nearest--that's the way it is done."
"Then will you give me the book?"
"I'll go and get one."
The boy returned a moment after with a small book, for which he demanded a
shilling. Since she had come to London her hand had never been out of her
pocket. She had her money with her; she did not dare leave it at home on
account of her father. The clerk looked out the addresses for her and she
tried to remember them--two were in Cumberland Place, another was in
Bryanstone Square. In Cumberland Place she was received by an elderly lady
who said she did not wish to judge anyone, but it was her invariable
practice to give letters only to married women. There was a delicate smell
of perfume in the room; the lady stirred the fire and lay back in her
armchair. Once or twice Esther tried to withdraw, but the lady, although
unswervingly faithful to her principles, seemed not indifferent to
Esther's story, and asked her many questions.
"I don't see what interest all that can be to you, as you ain't going to
give me a letter," Esther answered.
The next house she called at the lady was not at home, but she was
expected back presently, and the maid servant asked her to take a seat in
the hall.
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