He's got his money in
malt now, he says."
"Whose money?" asked Aunt Anne.
"His own, he says. I never knew he had any. But he says yes, it's in
malt. It's not a nice hotel, though, where he lives."
"Not nice, dear?"
"No, I didn't like it. But it's only for men really of course."
"I think he'd better take you somewhere else next time. I'll speak
to him. By the way, Maggie dear, Martha tells me you went out
yesterday afternoon all alone--into the Strand. I think it would be
better if you were to tell us."
Maggie's cheeks were hot. She set back her shoulders.
"How does Martha know?" she asked quickly. "I only went for a
moment--only for a little walk. But I'm grown up, Aunt Anne. Surely
I can go out by myself if . . ." she stopped, looking away from them
into the fire.
"It isn't that, dear," Aunt Anne said very gently. "It's only that
you've been so little a time in London that you can't know your way
about yet. And London's a strange place. It might be unpleasant for
you alone. I'd rather that you told us first."
Then Maggie delivered her challenge.
"But, aunt, I won't be always here.
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