There was no one at all in this room, but through the half-open door of one of the small apartments that gave upon it she had a glimpse of two very young girls sitting at a littered table and writing briskly. She feared he might take her tears as a sign of weakness. The younger of the two, who was seated next to Jack, and seemed to monopolize his attention, could not be more than seventeen, though her person had all the maturity of twenty. Coldly she spoke, in a distinctly accented voice. " "I hope they are, Sir," answered Mrs. Fresh ground, no chicory, and all the rest of it. The mother, Cathy Beck, was as patient and as charitable of an individual that Lucy had ever known, a big kindly Polish-American woman with the heart of an angel. Had he had the child to think of, he might have recovered from his grief at Mary’s death.
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