No Place for a Lady Read Online Free PDF

over his shoulder with a conning smile. “If the idea is not to make profit, but only to get the lumber out of your flat, I have a different suggestion to make.”
    “Let us hear it,” I said.
    “I believe your tenants would be happy to have the use of it. The rooms are advertised as ‘furnished,’ but they contain only the minimum. It is surprising how little furniture one can get along with. I could certainly make good use of one of these desks,” he said, running his palm over the one good piece in the lot, the Hepplewhite desk. “And if there is a spare dresser or toilet table, I know Mrs. Clarke has been wishing she could afford some sort of chest for Jamie’s things. That is her son.”
    “We have already met Mrs. Clarke,” Miss Thackery said.
    “A charming girl, and a sad case. We all take a parental interest in Mrs. Clarke,” Alger said, with a soft smile.
    Mr. Butler’s interest could hardly be called ‘parental,’ and I was none too sure what hue Mr. Alger’s interest took, but the widow was certainly pretty—and in need of any help she could find.
    “I have no objection to the tenants making use of it if they like,” I said at once.
    “Then I claim this desk!” Alger said, placing his palm on the Hepplewhite. “I promise you I shall take good care of it.”
    “That one piece is fairly good,” I said.
    Miss Thackery cast a questioning look to see if I would let the Hepplewhite go. I consoled myself that the furnishings were only being lent to the tenants. “You can have the desk when I sell the house, if you want it,” I told her.
    “You are surely not planning to sell the house!” Mr. Alger exclaimed.
    “This is not the sort of place we could live in,” I assured him.
    “It is not what you are accustomed to, I daresay. I don’t believe Mrs. Cummings ever mentioned your circumstances ... ?”
    There was a question in his eyes. “We come from Radstock. My papa is the rector there,” I said.
    “I see.” The rapid blinking of his eyes and choked voice told me he had not expected such a genteel background. Having caught me dusting with a dirty face and apron yesterday, he had apparently taken me for a commoner.
    “So you see, we could not possibly live here,” I explained.
    Mr. Alger looked at a seat. I nodded agreement to his occupying it, and he began to try to talk me out of selling.
    “I expect life is quiet in Radstock,” he said. “There is something to be said for tasting the various spices of life. I find Wild Street fascinating. You feel the very pulse of a large city beating all about you.”
    “Yes, and you hear and smell it, too,” Miss Thackery said. “We could hardly sleep for the racket in the streets.”
    “One soon becomes accustomed to that,” he informed us. “It is all part of the local color. And here in the theater district, you might meet all manner of interesting characters. I have found it a broadening experience.”
    “I find cutthroats and gin mills an experience I can do without,” I replied.
    “Indeed? I would have thought a rector’s daughter might be interested in helping the less fortunate.”
    I blush to confess this notion had not so much as entered my head. Good works played a large part in my life, but they were such tame good works as supplying food to the hungry and organizing the church bazaars.
    “I fear I am not qualified to help much in this case. Wild Street is too ...” I said uncertainly.
    “Wild?” he suggested. “Perhaps you are right. You are too tame to tackle real poverty and need. The poor helpless women, forced on to the streets at an early age, the homeless children.”
    “You cannot expect me to single-handedly right the wrongs of London, Mr. Alger,” I said sharply, for I did feel a few qualms of guilt at what he was saying.
    “You are right. It is beyond one person. We must each do what we can— But you have a comfortable home elsewhere, of course. We cannot expect you to disrupt your life only because the