'I'll ask her; I don t think she's going anywhere.' 'It won't be like last Sunday ?' 'She really didn't feel well.

And I can't promise, you know Mr.
Ackroyd.' She met his eyes for an instant, then looked along the street There was a faint smile on her lips, with just a suspicion of some trouble.
'But you _will_ ask her ?' 'Yes, I will.' She added in a lower voice, and with constraint: 'I'm afraid she won't go by herself.' 'Then come with her.

Do! Will you ?' 'If she asks me to, I will.' Lydia moved as if to leave him, but he followed.
'Miss Trent, you'll say a word for me sometimes ?' She raised her eyes again and replied quickly: 'I never say nothing against you, Mr.Ackroyd.' 'Thank you.

Then I'll be at the end of the Walk at six o'clock, shall I ?' She nodded, and walked quickly on.

Ackroyd turned back into Paradise Street.