At the top of the kitchen stairs Miss Sellars paused and called down shrilly to Mrs. Peedles, who in course of time appeared, panting.
“Oh, me and Mr. Kelver are going out for a short walk, Mrs. Peedles. I shan't want any supper. Good night.”
“Oh, good night, my dear,” replied Mrs. Peedles. “Hope you'll enjoy yourselves. Is Mr. Kelver there?”
“He's round the corner,” I heard Miss Sellars explain in a lower voice; and there followed a snigger.
“He's a bit shy, ain't he?” suggested Mrs. Peedles in a whisper.
“I've had enough of the other sort,” was Miss Sellars' answer in low tones.
“Ah, well; it's the shy ones that come out the strongest after a bit—leastways, that's been my experience.”
“He'll do all right. So long.”
Miss Sellars, buttoning a burst glove, rejoined me.
“I suppose you've never had a sweetheart before?” asked Miss Sellars, as we turned into the Blackfriars Road.