ed him too. Then that
constable said he'd had us both in charge before for drunk and
disorderly. Altogether, it wasn't a bad lying-match.'

'Why do you run the chance of getting into such rows?'

'Well, I like that, Totty! Was I to let him insult you and just stand
by?'

'Oh, I don't mean that. But it wouldn't have happened at all but for
you going on drinking--you know that very well, Mr. Ackroyd.'

'I suppose it wouldn't. It doesn't matter. I just wanted to see you'd
got home all right. Good-night!'

'Good-night! Mind _you_ get home safe, that's all.'

She turned away. He turned away. But he was back before she had crossed
the street.

'I say, Totty!'

'What is it?'

'You haven't told me what you were doing, standing here.'

'I don't see as it matters to you, Mr. Ackroyd.'

'No, I suppose it doesn't. Well, good-night!'

'Good-night!'

Each again turned to depart; again Ackroyd came hack.

'Totty!'

'What _is_ it, Mr. Ackroyd?' she exclaimed, fretfully.

'I can't for the life of me make out what you were doing standing
there.'

'I don't see as it's any business of yours, Mr. Ackroyd.'

'Still, I'd rather you told me. I suppose you were waiting for
somebody?'

'If you _must_ know--yes, I was.'

'H'm, I thought so. Well, I won't stop to be in the way.'

'I say, Mr. Ackroyd!'

'Yes?'

'There's a notice outside the station as says a man has deserted his
wife.'

'Is there? How do you know?'

'I read it.'

'Oh, you've been waiting there, have you?'

'And another thing. It wasn't no use you looking up at Thyrza Trent's
window. She's away.'

'How do you know I looked up?'

He came nearer, a smile on his face. Totty averted her eyes.

'I suppose it wasn't me you were waiting for, Totty?' She said nothing.

'Give me a kiss, Totty.'

'I'm sure I shan't, Mr. Ackroyd!'

'Then let me take one.'

She made no resistance.

'When, Totty?' he whispered, drawing her near.

'Next Christmas, if you haven't taken a drop too much before then. If I
find out you _have_--it's no good you coming after Totty Nancarrow.'

She walked with him to the end of the street, then watched him to his
house. She was pleased; she was ashamed; she was afraid. Turning to go
home, she crossed herself and murmured something.

CHAPTER XVIII

DRAWING NEARER

Lydia had a little rule of self-discipline which deserved to be, and
was, its own reward. If ever personal troubles began to worry her she
dilige