It was a strong face; coarse originally,
and, in addition to the faults of nature, it now bore the plainest
traces of hard living. As soon as he perceived Waymark and his
companion, he fixed them with his eyes, and scarcely looked away as
long as they remained in the room. The girl seemed shrinking under
this gaze, though she sat almost with her back to him. She ceased
talking, and, as soon as she saw that Waymark had finished, made a
sign to him to pay quickly (with a sovereign she pushed across the
table) and let them be gone. They rose, accordingly, and left. The
man watched them, but remained seated.
"Are you in a hurry to get home?" the girl asked, when they were in
the street again.
"No; time is of no consequence to me."
"Do you live far off?"
"In Kennington. And you?"
"If you like, I'll show you. Let us walk quickly. I feel rather
cold."
She led the way into the Strand. At no great distance from Temple
Bar she turned off into a small court.
"This is a queer place to live in," observed Waymark, as he looked
up at the dark houses.
"Don't be afraid," was the good-humoured reply, as she opened the
door with a latch-key. They went up two flights of stairs, then
entered a room where a bright fire was burning.
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