CHAPTER SEVENThe streets were wet and there was a promise of further rain in the lowering sky, which hung grey and moist over the housetops.
Fiona stood on the steps of the boarding house where she had spent the night for two shillings and wondered again which way she could possibly turn.
It was February, nearly two months since Fiona had been in work and already the life she was leading of hunger and hopeless searching had altered her almost out of all recognition.
She was very thin and the black coat that had fitted her so snugly now hung in ungainly folds over her hips and from her thin shoulders.
It was worn at the cuffs and almost threadbare where she had held it across her to keep out the bitter East winds. She had worn it for twelve hours of the day for by now she had nothing el
