say why this was so, but he knew it, he felt it, sensed its
energy within him as he set out for Dalton Street.

He was neither happy nor unhappy, but in equilibrium, walking with sure
steps, and the anxiety in which he had fallen asleep the night before
was gone: anxiety lest the woman should have fled, or changed her mind,
or committed some act of desperation.

In Dalton Street a thin coat of yellow mud glistened on the asphalt, but
even the dreariness of this neighbourhood seemed transient. He rang the
bell of the flat, the door swung open, and in the hall above a woman
awaited him. She was clad in black.

"You wouldn't know me, would you?" she inquired. "Say, I scarcely know
myself. I used to wear this dress at Pratt's, with white collars and
cuffs and--well, I just put it on again. I had it in the bottom of my
trunk, and I guessed you'd like it."

"I didn't know you at first," he said, and the pleasure in his face was
her reward.

The transformation, indeed, was more remarkable than he could have
believed possible, for respectability itself would seem to have been
regained by a costume, and the abundance of her remarkable hair was now
repressed. The absence of paint made her cheeks strangely white, the
hollows under the eyes darker. The eyes themselves alone betrayed the
woman of yesterday; they still burned.

"Why," he exclaimed, looking around him, "you have been busy, haven't
you?"

"I've been up since six," she told him proudly. The flat had been
dismantled of its meagre furniture, the rug was rolled up and tied,
and a trunk strapped with rope was in the middle of the floor. Her next
remark brought home to him the full responsibility of his situation. She
led him to the window, and pointed to a spot among the drenched weeds
and rubbish in the yard next door. "Do you see that bottle? That's
the first thing I did--flung it out there. It didn't break," she added
significantly, "and there are three drinks in it yet."

Once more he confined his approval to his glance.

"Now you must come and have some breakfast," he said briskly. "If I had
thought about it I should have waited to have it with you."

"I'm not hungry." In the light of his new knowledge, he connected her
sudden dejection with the sight of the bottle.

"But you must eat. You're exhausted from all this work. And a cup of
coffee will make all the difference in the world."

She yielded, pinning on her hat. And he led her, holding the umbrella