She looked at him angrily.
"Too much of a toff, eh? No, you can keep your money. You'll come along and have one with me, or I'll tell the bobby."
Douglas hesitated. He thought for a moment of De Quincey's Ann wandering out of the mists to cross the bridge with weary footsteps, and turned towards the girl with a courtesy which was almost tenderness.
"I will come with you if you like," he said, "only—"
The girl laughed hardly.
"All right. We'll go to the 'Cross.' The port wine's A1 there. You a
Londoner?" she added, as they turned towards the Strand.
He shook his head.
"I have never been in London before to-day," he answered.
"More fool you to come, then," she said, shortly. "You don't look like a Cockney. I guess you're a gentleman, aren't you—run away from home or something?"
"I have come to live in London," he said, evasively. "I have always wanted to."