“I’m not going anywhere,” said Poppy, stopping suddenly and facing him. “I’ve got a new berth next Monday, and to-morrow morning I am going to see them to ask them to employ me at once.”
“And to-night?” suggested the other.
“I shall go for a walk,” said the girl. “Now that you know all about my concerns, will you please go?”
“Walk?” repeated Fraser. “Walk? What, all night? You can’t do it—you don’t know what it’s like. Will you let me lend you some money? You can repay me as soon as you like.”
“No, thank you.”
“For my sake?” he suggested.
Miss Tyrell raised her eyebrows.
“I’m a bad walker,” he explained.
The reply trembling on Miss Tyrell’s lips realised that it was utterly inadequate to the occasion, and remained unspoken. She walked on in silence, apparently oblivious of the man by her side, and when he next spoke to her made no reply. He glanced at a clock in a baker’s shop as they passed, and saw that it was just seven.
In this sociable fashion they walked along the Commercial Road and on to Aldgate, and then, passing up Fenchurch Street, mingled with the crowd thronging homewards over London Bridge. They went as far as Kennington in this direction, and then the girl turned and walked back to the City. Fraser, glancing at the pale profile beside him, ventured to speak again.