She descended the stairs, and found herself at last in the street—alone. O'Higgins eyed it thoughtfully. She was so interested, and this was such a relief from the trudging anxiety of her search for work, that she went on for a whole week as if she was still living at home. She found it extremely difficult to infuse an air of quiet correctitude into her return through the window, and when she was safely inside she waved clinched fists and executed a noiseless dance of rage. I couldn’t help the thought. "And now," he continued, sternly, "was it your master who has just ridden by?" "No," answered Quilt, sullenly. ‘But it is entirely myself,’ she exclaimed aloud.
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