"Come in," said she; and Zoe
entered just as the last spill burned out.
Rhoda Gale rose in a dark room; but a gas-light over the way just showed
her figure. "Miss Gale?" said Zoe, timidly.
"I am Miss Gale," said Rhoda, quietly, but firmly.
"I am Miss Vizard--the gentleman's sister that you met in Leicester
Square to-day;" and she took a cautious step toward her.
Rhoda's cheeks burned.
"Miss Vizard," she said, "excuse my receiving you so; but you may have
heard I am very poor. My last candle is gone. But perhaps the landlady
would lend me one. I don't know. She is very disobliging, and very
cruel."
"Then she shall not have the honor of lending you a candle," said Zoe,
with one of her gushes. "Now, to tell the truth," said she, altering to
the cheerful, "I'm rather glad. I would rather talk to you in the dark
for a little, just at first. May I?" By this time she had gradually crept
up to Rhoda.
"I am afraid you _must,"_ said Rhoda. "But at least I can offer you a
seat."
Zoe sat down, and there was an awkward silence.
"Oh, dear," said Zoe; "I don't know how to begin. I wish you would give
me your hand, as I can't see your face.
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