They soon left the more crowded streets, and turning to the right, after ten minutes walking, the smith stopped in front of a bowyer shop near Aldgate.
"This is the shop," he said, "and there is Giles Fletcher himself trying the spring and pull of one of his bows.

Here I will leave you, and will one of these days return to inquire if your health has taken ought of harm by the rough buffeting of the storm of yester-even." So saying he handed the child to its mother, and with a wave of the hand took his leave, not waiting to listen to the renewed thanks which his late guest endeavoured to give him.
The shop was open in front, a projecting penthouse sheltered it from the weather; two or three bows lay upon a wide shelf in front, and several large sheaves of arrows tied together stood by the wall.

A powerful man of some forty years old was standing in the middle of the shop with a bent bow in his arm, taking aim at a spot in the wall.

Through an open door three men could be seen in an inner workshop cutting and shaping the wood for bows.

The bowyer looked round as his visitor entered the shop, and then, with a sudden exclamation, lowered the bow.
"Hush, Giles!" the lady exclaimed; "it is I, but name no names; it were best that none knew me here." The craftsman closed the door of communication into the inner room.
"My Lady Alice," he exclaimed in a low tone, "you here, and in such a guise ?" "Surely it is I," the lady sighed, "although sometimes I am well-nigh inclined to ask myself whether it be truly I or not, or whether this be not all a dreadful dream." "I had heard but vaguely of your troubles," Giles Fletcher said, "but hoped that the rumours were false.