been fourteen years in this street, taking in boarders; everybody knows her; everybody knows Mrs. Jones; her poor husband died six years ago (God rest his soul); she finds it hard to get a living these times; work, work, morning, noon and night (talk, talk, talk, more likely). 'Do you know Mr. Duff of the Labour Bureau?' He has known her family for years; a very nice gentleman―a very nice gentleman indeed; he often stops at the gate to have a yarn with her on his way to the office (he must be hard up for a yarn). She doesn't know hardly nobody in this street; she never gossips; it takes her all her time to get a living; she can't be bothered with neighbours; it's always best to keep to yourself and keep neighbours at a distance. Would you believe it, Mr. Careless, she has been two years in this house and hasn't said above a dozen words to the woman next door; she'd just know her by sight if she saw her; as for the other woman she wouldn't know her from a crow. Mr. Blank and Mrs. Blank could tell you the same.…She always had gentlemen staying with her; she never had no cause to complain of one of them except once; they always treated her fair and honest. Here follows story about the exception; he, I gathered, was a journalist, and she could never depend on him. He seemed, from her statements, to have been decidedly erratic in his movements, mode of life and choice of climes. He evidently caused her a great deal of trouble and anxiety, and I felt a kind of sneaking sympathy for his memory. One young fellow stayed with her five years; he was &c. She couldn't be hard on any young
