He grasped again for the hand holding the note, and she looked at him with a countenance that no longer tried to hide the scorn and, indeed, the anger she felt for such as he who would live off of his wife, and terrify his own child. This anger was closely followed with some relief: “Thank God, there is no evidence that there are other children in this place!”

In another moment, his face changed again; he dropt his hand and said simply, “Take her. That’s right, take her. Now, give me the tenner!”

Georgiana handed him the note, and, as she was walking back to the landing, placed a second one on the table under a grubby bowl, with the intention that his wife might find it before her husband. Mr. Vale was in no condition to follow her, and was obviously again asleep before she reached the door. She bent to wrap the dirty sack in her shawl, and, asking Betsey if she wished to come to her house to stay with Tabby and her kittens, she received a whispered, but unequivocal, “Yes’m.” Georgiana was rewarded with an astonishingly firm grip by the little fingers on her glove, and they walked quietly down the staircase and into the street, then around the corner onto Church Place, toward Piccadilly and home.

In the minutes that had seen Georgiana’s meeting the child and securing her, there had been no time for any thoughts except removing her from such vile surroundings. She had given no thought at all to her own reception when she arrived at her brother’s house, and entered with the child. She did not fear his reaction, but had no idea whether it would be praise or censure. Surely he would be very right in thinking that the preservation of this one child would do no good against the thousands who roamed the streets of London each day. She had her ready reply, “It matters to this one.”