He came nearer, a smile on his face. Totty averted her eyes.
'I suppose it wasn't me you were waiting for, Totty?' She said nothing.
'Give me a kiss, Totty.'
'I'm sure I shan't, Mr. Ackroyd!'
'Then let me take one.'
She made no resistance.
'When, Totty?' he whispered, drawing her near.
'Next Christmas, if you haven't taken a drop too much before then. If I find out you have—it's no good you coming after Totty Nancarrow.'
She walked with him to the end of the street, then watched him to his house. She was pleased; she was ashamed; she was afraid. Turning to go home, she crossed herself and murmured something.