‘Just take me over to Victoria Street. Wait at the Monico; ain’t safe here.’
Over the road he gave the sovereign into her keeping, and she frisked up a side street. Prosser followed him down Victoria Street, helped him silently over the crossings, and was still dreaming of one like himself, meeting an old friend and lacking the energy to acknowledge him; when the blind man turned suddenly and grabbed him by the arm.
‘What’s your name?’
‘Prosser,’ he faltered.
‘I thought so. You’ve been drinking, you —— fool. Where have you been all this time since you came out?’
‘I ... I’m in service.’
‘Ah?’
‘I’ve turned over a new leaf. Was that my little girl?’
‘That was Joey. Why?’
‘I only wanted to know.’