He thanked them, paused for a moment with his eyes down, then again sighed slightly and went forth into the gathering gloom.
Less than five minutes later there ran into the same house of refreshment a little slight girl, perhaps thirteen years old; she carried a jug, and at the bar asked for 'a pint of old six.' The barman, whilst drawing the ale, called out to a man who had entered immediately after the child: 'Don't know nobody called Snowdon about 'ere, do you, Mr.Squibbs ?' The individual addressed was very dirty, very sleepy, and seemingly at odds with mankind.

He replied contemptuously with a word which, in phonetic rendering may perhaps be spelt 'Nay-oo.' But the little girl was looking eagerly from one man to the other; what had been said appeared to excite keen interest in her.

She forgot all about the beer-jug that was waiting, and, after a brief but obvious struggle with timidity, said in an uncertain voice: 'Has somebody been asking for that name, sir ?' 'Yes, they have,' the barman answered, in surprise.

'Why ?' My name's Snowdon, sir--Jane Snowdon.' She reddened over all her face as soon as she had given utterance to the impulsive words.

The barman was regarding her with a sort of semi-interest, and Mr.Squibbs also had fixed his bleary (or beery) eyes upon her.