When she had gained her own room she stood among her scattered possessions, thinking. No one knew how terrifying her loneliness seemed to her. As she looked out at it now, so close at hand, to begin to-morrow, her heart sickened, and the bleakness of an encompassing world, all strange, all cold, all uncaring, seemed to encircle her. Were not protection, companionship, home, at any price, better than this? She recalled the young man's coarse but good-natured face, his passion shining through the businesslike phlegm of his manner, and uttered a vehement exclamation, at the same time making a gesture as though repulsing him. There were some things that even to a woman in her position were impossible.
The next day she started, turning her back on her father's grave, and her face toward the city where she had been born and yet had not a friend.
Had Mrs. Cassidy heard this stricture upon her lonely condition, she would have hotly denied it. Mrs. Cassidy told Viola that she would be at once a mother and a father to her, and Micky Cassidy, her son, would fill the various positions of male relations that, in Miss Reed's case, were as yet untenanted. The impulsive widow did her best to make the girl feel at home, and certainly offered Viola the consolation of shedding many tears with her, and of
