“I’ll soon be yours, Jim,” answered the girl, “though I am in no end of a funk.”
The man laughed. He pressed Hetty close to him, and began to kiss her on her lips and forehead. She submitted to his caresses, shutting her eyes and trying to keep back the agony which was really filling her heart.
“That’s all right,” said Scrivener. “You give notice to quit to-morrow, do you hear?”
“Yes, Jim.”
“You had best not give too short notice, or it might rouse suspicion. Say you are engaged to be married to a respectable man in a way of business. You might call me Dawson if you like; it don’t much matter; the less you bring in names, the better, only if you are driven to it, say the man’s name is Sam Dawson. Then at the end of the fortnight you go up to town, and I’ll meet you at King’s Cross and take you right away to my own house. I think that’s all now. You had best slip back, or you may be suspected.”
“Very well, Jim, I’ll do what you say, for I cannot help myself. I suppose you are going to town?”
“You had best not know where I am going. Leave me to manage my own affairs. If you don’t know, you can’t tell. There, good-bye.”