Ada was lying on the bed, still tossed and disordered from last night, in a dirty dressing-gown.

A basin of soapy water stood on the washstand, and the carpeted floor was littered with clothes, a pile of penny novelettes, and a collection of odds and ends on their way to the rag-bag.

In spite of the huge bedroom suite with its streaked and speckled mirrors, the room seemed half furnished.
For a moment Clara was puzzled, and then her quick, feminine eye noted a complete absence of the common knick-knacks and trifles that indicate the refinement or vulgarity of the owner.

She remembered that Jonah had told her that Ada pawned everything she could lay hands on since he stopped her allowance.

But she was more surprised at the change in Ada herself.