And after all—as Bella reflected, when hurrying along the road—she had no one to consider but herself, since it mattered very little what was said about her, so long as Cyril was true. She was at war with her aunt—if, indeed, Mrs. Vand was her aunt—she had no friend but Dora, and there was really no person whom she desired to conciliate. Under these circumstances, she took her courage in both hands and with a calm face, but with her heart in her mouth, she rapped at the door of Lister’s lodgings. Luckily he had observed her from the window, and opened the door himself.
“I am so glad to see you Bella,” he said, shaking hands in a conventional manner, as the stout form of Mrs. Block appeared at the end of the passage, “for I was just corning round to propose a walk on the cornmon.”
“It is
