came whiffs of tobacco and odours of the drinking-bar.
They crossed, and walked the length of Islington High Street, then a short way along its continuation, Upper Street. Once or twice Clara had barely glanced at Kirkwood, but his eyes made no reply, and his lips were resolutely closed. She did not seem offended by this silence; on the contrary, her face was cheerful and she smiled to herself now and then. One would have imagined that she found pleasure in the sombreness of which she was the cause.
She stopped at length, and said:
"I suppose you don't want to go in with me?"
"No."
"Then I'll say good-night. Thank you for coming so far out of your way."
"I'll wait. I may as well walk back with you, if you don't mind."
"Oh, very well. I shan't be many minutes."
She passed on and entered the place of
