Instead of that, a simple girl who lived by her needle, who spoke faultily.

And he loved her with the love which comes to a man but once.
The evening came at last.

Long before it was really time to start for Lambeth, on his visit to Bunce, he began to walk southwards.

He was at Westminster Bridge by half-past seven; probably it would be useless to call in Newport Street for another hour.

He went down on to the Lambeth Embankment.
It was his hope that no acquaintance would pass this way.