“Ah! you don't know,” she replied with an encouraging smile. “But you must excuse me. I have got the house to attend to. You may like to see the paper?”
Having spent some little time over the daily paper which she gave him, Walter took up his hat, and went out.
Strolling leisurely along, he came to Lambeth Palace, and standing near the pier at the foot of the bridge, he watched the boats arriving and departing—landing passengers and carrying them away.
The lively scene served to amuse him. Among those who were embarking, he noticed a tall, thin man, dressed in black, whose sharp features were familiar to him.
The individual in question was only just in time, and as soon as he got on board, the boat was cast off, and took its course towards the other side of the river.
It had not gone far, when the tall, thin man, approaching the stern, descried Walter, and almost started at the sight of him.
They remained gazing at each other as long as the steam-boat continued in view, but no sign of recognition passed between them.
The sight of this person, whoever he might be, seemed to awaken a train of painful reflections in Walter's breast.
He sat down on a bench on the little esplanade, and remained there for some time contemplating the busy scene on the river.
By degrees he recovered his serenity, and it was in a more cheerful frame of mind that he returned to the house in Spencer's Rents.