Mr. Earlforward, on the other hand, was still secretly trembling as he realized more and more clearly the dangers which he had narrowly escaped in the Thursday night affair; and he had not begun to tremble until Friday morning!
"Rather early, isn't it, if you're going to church?" he suggested.
"I always like to be early if it's a strange church, and I've not been in there at all yet."
"St. Andrew's?"
"I don't know what its name is. The one up the steps in the middle of the Square."
"Yes. St. Andrew's, that is."
Without another word they then by a common impulse both moved out of the shop, which Mrs. Arb smartly locked up. In spite of the upset caused by Elsie's defection, and the prospect of future trouble and annoyance in this connexion, they were very happy, and they had quite overlooked the fact that their combined years amounted to ninety, or thereabouts. The sun was feebly shining on the Sabbath scene. The bells of St. Andrew's were jangling.
"I see you have some plant-pots on your top window-sill," observed Mrs. Arb. "Do you ever water them?"
An implied criticism! Mr. Earlforward enjoyed it, for it proved that they were getting intimate, as, indeed, became two people who had slept (well) opposite one another in two chairs through the better part of a coldish night.
"I do not," said Mr. Earlforward, waggishly, stoutly.