"And what about yourself?" he said. "Why are you out here so early?"
The lady of the feathers cast a suspicious glance upon him. Then the horror dawned again in her eyes.
"I'm afraid to go home," she said. "Yes, that's a fact."
"Afraid—why?" Julian spoke abstractedly. In truth he merely talked to this floating wisp of humanity to distract his mind, and thought of her as a strange female David of the streets sent to make a cockney music in his ears that his soul might be rid of its evil spirit.
"Never you mind why," the lady answered.
She shivered suddenly, violently, as a dog just come out of water.
"Have another cup?" Julian said.
"And a bun, dearie," the lady again rejoined. She shook her head till all the feathers danced.
"Never you mind why," she said, reverting again to his vagrant question.
"There's some things as don't do to talk about."
"I'm sure I've no wish to pry into your private affairs," Julian rejoined carelessly.