Lydia shook her head.
'Well, you come at four o'clock, at all events, and we'll see all about it.

Good-bye, grandad.' She hurried away, throwing back a bright look as she passed into the shop.
Paradise Street runs at right angles into Lambeth Walk.

As Lydia approached this point, she saw that Ackroyd stood there, apparently waiting for her.

He was turning over the leaves of one of his books, but kept glancing towards her as she drew near.

He wished to speak, and she stopped.
'Do you think,' he said, with diffidence, 'that your sister would come out to-morrow after tea ?' Lydia kept her eyes down.
'I don't know, Mr.Ackroyd,' she answered.