"Please take this and go home," he enjoined. "Go home at once! Get out of the streets and hide yourself."
She stared at him and at the money.
"Why, I've only just come out," she protested. "All the same, I'm dead tired. I'll go. Walk with me, won't you? You look as if you wanted looking after."
"I'm all right," he answered. "You go home."
She slipped the money carefully into her purse, and hailed a taxi.
"You shall have your own way," she declared. "Can't I drop you anywhere?"
He raised his hat, and, once more swinging around, passed on his way. Presently he found himself in the street where Louise lived. He looked at his watch—it was twenty minutes to three o'clock.
The house was in solemn darkness. He stood and looked up at it. There was no sign of a light, not even from the top windows. Its silence seemed to him more than the silence of sleep. He found himself wondering whether it was really inhabited, whether there were really human souls in this quiet corner, waiting peacefully for the dawn, heedless of the torment which was tearing his soul to pieces. Perhaps, behind that drawn blind, Louise herself was awake. Perhaps she was thinking, looking back into the past, wondering about the future. He took a step toward the gate.
"Are you going in there, sir?"
He turned quickly around. A policeman had flashed a lantern upon him. John suddenly became intensely matter-of-fact.