It was all miserably desolate.

The paper shields kept out the light of the sunbeams; and though the place was tolerably clean, it had a close, musty, disagreeable, shut-up smell.

But all Daisy thought of at first was the cripple.

She went a little towards her.
"How do you do, Molly ?" her little soft voice said.

Molly looked glum, and spoke never a word.
"I have been waiting to see you," Daisy said, advancing a step nearer--"and you did not come out.