“Yes; I think so.”
If he had spoken his thought, he would have railed against the soup-kitchen and all that was connected with it. So far had he got in his revolt against circumstances; Jane’s “mission” was hateful to him; he could not bear to think of her handing soup over a counter to ragged wretches.
“You’re nothing like as cheerful as you used to be,” he said, suddenly, and all but roughly. “Why is it?”
What a question! Jane reddened as she tried to look at him with a smile; no words would come to her tongue.
“Do you go anywhere else, besides to—to that place?”
Not often. She had accompanied Miss Lant on a visit to some people in Shooter’s Gardens.
Sidney bent his brows. A nice spot. Shooter’s Gardens.
“The houses are going to be pulled down, I’m glad to say,” continued Jane. “Miss Lant thinks it’ll be a good opportunity for helping a few of the families into better lodgings. We’re going to buy furniture for them,—so many have as good as none at all, you
