They reached the row of taxis, and, in spite of the queer looks of the passers-by, he took her by the hand.
"Come, Jennie, come!"
But she hung back.
"Oh, Bob, how can I? All of a sudden like this!"
"It might as well be all of a sudden as any other way, since you're my woman and I'm your man."
"But I don't believe it."
"Then I'll prove to you that it's so."
Though he could not do this, she went with him in the end. She was not won; she was not more moved by his suit than she had been at other times; she still shrank from the scar on his brow and the touch of his tremendous hands. But she was afraid of letting him go, of dropping back into the horror of no lover in the studio and no money to bring home. To do this thing would save her from that emptiness, even if it led to something worse. Worse would be easier to bear than returning to nothing but a void; and so slowly, reluctantly, with anguish in her heart, she let herself be helped into the shabby vehicle.
An hour or so later, Teddy reached home. He arrived breathless, because he had run nearly all the way from the street-car. In the empty spaces of Indiana Avenue he felt himself conspicuous. He knew it was fancy, that no hint of his folly could have come to this quiet suburb, and that his theft could not possibly be discovered as yet, even by those most concerned. But he was not used to a guilty conscience. Already in imagination he saw himself tried, sentenced, and serving a long sentence at Bitterwell, of which he had once seen the grim gray walls.