The wrangle continued for some time longer; then Clem bethought herself of another person with whom she must have the satisfaction of speaking her mind. On the impulse, she rushed away, out of Clerkenwell Close, up St. John Street Road, across City Road, down to Hanover Street, literally running for most of the time. Her knock at Mrs. Byass’s door was terrific.
“I want to see Jane Snowdon,” was her address to Bessie.
“Do you? I think you might have knocked more like civilisation,” replied Mrs. Byass, proud of expressing herself with superior refinement.
But Clem pushed her way forward. Jane, alarmed at the noise, showed herself on the stairs.
“You just come ’ere!” cried Clem to her. “I’ve got something to say to you, Miss!”
Jane was of a sudden possessed with terror, the old terror with which Clem had inspired her years ago. She shrank back, but Bessie Byass was by no means disposed to allow this kind of thing to go on in her house.
“Mrs. Snowdon,” she exclaimed, “I don’t
