But he was far too early at the prison
gate. He strayed about the little streets of the neighbourhood, his
eyes gazing absently in this or that direction, his hot breath
steaming up in the grey light. When it was drawing near the time, he
made some inquiries from a policeman whom he passed. Then he went to
the spot whither he was directed, and watched. Two or three people,
of poor appearance, were also standing about, waiting. Julian kept
apart from them. First, a miserable old woman, huddling herself in a
dirty shawl; looking on all sides with a greedy eye; hastening off
no one knew whither. Then two young girls, laughing aloud at their
recovered liberty; they repaired at once to the nearest
public-house. Then a figure of quite different appearance, coming
quickly forward, hesitating, gazing around; a beautiful face, calm
with too great self-control, sad, pale. Towards her Julian advanced.
"Mr. Waymark was unavoidably prevented from coming," he said
quickly. "But he has taken rooms for you. You will let me go with
you, and show you the house?"
"Thank you," was Ida's only reply.
They walked together into the main street, and Julian stopped the
first empty cab that passed.
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