Walter was wise enough not to try arguing with or blaming him. He knew it would be worse than useless.
It was now getting dark, and the station was being lighted up. By some happy chance, Walter found his way out of it, and into the town, still holding on to Chris.
"Leave go," said the latter roughly. "I ain't a baby, nor a perambulator neither, to be pushed about by you."
He walked, or rather stumbled, along some way without help, Walter feeling utterly disgusted both with himself and his friend.
"But he shan't be my friend no more after to-day—I've made up my mind as to that," he said to himself. "Father's often told me he wasn't a good companion, and I know I didn't believe him. I thought Chris was a fine fellow, as really knew more than other folks—he always talked as if he did—but I see now 'twas all talk, and he ain't near so sensible nor so pleasant as some of the other chaps. I ain't going to tell tales, but if Mr. Richardson could see him now, I don't think Chris 'ud stay much longer in the choir."
By this time they had reached the Palace Arms again, and Christopher once more turned in at the door.
"What's he doing that for?" thought Walter, "when he said he hadn't a farthing left. I shan't go in—I've had enough of it."
So he stayed in the street. He could hear voices—and very angry ones—within. They rose louder and louder, and then there seemed a sort of struggle.
Walter's anxiety to know what was going on had just conquered his reluctance to be mixed up in anything like a drunken row, when the door was hastily opened, and several men, among them the landlord of the tavern, appeared, all pushing and shoving at Chris in order to turn him out. They succeeded at last, and a very disgusting spectacle he presented as he half stood, half lounged against a lamp-post. His hat was gone—some one threw it out to him a minute later—his coat was torn, his collar and tie were all crooked, his eyes were bloodshot, and his expression was a mixture of fury and helplessness.
More than ever did Walter wish he was not obliged to claim companionship with this degraded, low-looking man.