'Perhaps I can tell you. Where are you staying?'
'In an hotel in Bedford Street, near Covent Garden.'
'Well, then, this is your way; you've come too far.'
And passing again into the jostling crowd they walked on in silence side by side. A slanting cloud of fog had drifted from the river down into the street, creating a shivering and terrifying darkness. The cabs moved at walking pace, the huge omnibuses stopped belated, and their advertisements could not be read even when a block occurred close under a gas-lamp. The jewellers' windows emitted the most light; but even gold and silver wares seemed to have become tarnished in the sickening atmosphere. Then the smell from fishmongers' shops grew more sour as the assistant piled up the lobsters and flooded the marbles preparatory to closing; and, just within the circle of vision, inhaling the greasy fragrance of soup, a woman in a blue bonnet loitered near a grating.
'This is Bedford Street, I think,' said Kate, 'but it's so dark that it's impossible to see.'
'I suppose you know London well?' replied Ralph somewhat pointedly.
'Pretty well, I've been here now for some time.'
For the last three or four minutes not a word had been spoken. Kate was surprised that Ralph was not angry with her; she wanted to speak to him of old times, but it was hard to break the ice of intervening years. At last, as they stopped before the door of a small family hotel, he said:
'It's now something like four years since we parted, ain't it?'
The question startled her, and she answered nervously and hurriedly: