They came out into Lambeth Walk, where the market was as noisy as ever; the shops lit up, the stalls flaring with naphtha lamps, the odour of fried fish everywhere predominant.

He led her through the crowd and a short distance into her own street.

Then she gave him her hand and said: 'Good-night, Mr.Ackroyd.Thank you for bringing me back.

You'll be friends with me and Lyddy ?' 'You'll come out with her to-morrow ?' 'I can't promise.

Good-night!'.