"I am obliged for your kindness, but I must be off now. It is late, and I have a long way to go."
"Where to? Holloway?"
"No, cityward."
The clothes and boots were made up in a parcel by this time. Philip hurried away, glad to escape further questioning.
"Queer sort o' kid, that," mused the shopkeeper. "My, but 'e must ha' bin 'ard up afore 'e took on wiv' a Jew. Wot did 'e s'y 'is nyme was? Isaacstein? I've seen that somewhere or other. Now where was it?"
He knew two hours later, for he, too, read the evening paper.
Philip sprang into a 'bus for the Bank. At the Royal Exchange he would catch a green 'bus for the Mile End Road.
It was almost dark when he reached the Bank. Thus far the omnibuses going east were not crowded. Now the situation had changed.
The human eddy in that throbbing center of life was sending off its swirls to all points of the compass, and the eastbound vehicles were boarded by an eager crowd almost before the passengers arriving at the terminus could descend.
A poor woman, greatly hampered by a baby, was struggling with others to obtain a seat in the Mile End Road 'bus. Philip, coming late on the scene, saw her swept ruthlessly aside by a number of men and boys. The conductor jerked the bell-rope several times. There was no more room.