us bulk contained all the joy and
blessing those shadows on the pavement had ever known.

The two young people emerged on to the high road running east and west.

"Cross here," said Martin, "and cut down into Kensington. Nothing more
of interest now till we get to Hound Street. Purceys and Purceys all
round about this part."

Thyme shook herself.

"O Martin, let's go down a road where there's some air. I feel so
dirty." She put her hand up to her chest.

"There's one here," said Martin.

They turned to the left into a road that had many trees. Now that she
could breathe and look about her, Thyme once more held her head erect and
began to swing her arms.

"Martin, something must be done!"

The young doctor did not reply; his face still wore its pale, sarcastic,
observant look. He gave her arm a squeeze with a half-contemptuous
smile.

CHAPTER XV

SECOND PILGRIMAGE TO HOUND STREET

Arriving in Hound Street, Martin Stone and his companion went straight up
to Mrs. Hughs' front room. They found her doing the week's washing, and
hanging out before a scanty fire part of the little that the week had
been suffered to soil. Her arms were bare, her face and eyes red; the
steam of soapsuds had congealed on them.

Attached to the bolster by a towel, under his father's bayonet and the
oleograph depicting the Nativity, sat the baby. In the air there was the
scent of him, of walls, and washing, and red herrings. The two young
people took their seat on the window-sill.

"May we open the window, Mrs. Hughs?" said Thyme. "Or will it hurt the
baby?"

"No, miss."

"What's the matter with your wrists?" asked Martin.

The seamstress, muffing her arms with the garment she was dipping in
soapy water, did not answer.

"Don't do that. Let me have a look."

Mrs. Hughs held out her arms; the wrists were swollen and discoloured.

"The brute!" cried Thyme.

The young doctor muttered: "Done last night. Got any arnica?"

"No, Sir."

"Of course not." He laid a sixpence on the sill. "Get some and rub it
in. Mind you don't break the skin."

Thyme suddenly burst out: "Why don't you leave him, Mrs. Hughs? Why do
you live with a brute like that?"

Martin frowned.

"Any particular row," he said, "or only just the ordinary?"

Mrs. Hughs turned her face to the scanty fire. Her shoulders heaved
spasmodically.

Thus passed three minutes, then she again began rubbing the soapy
garment.

"If you don'