Before Lydia had gone half a dozen steps she saw that Ackroyd was waiting at the end of the street.

She felt a pang of self-reproach; it was wrong of her to have allowed him to stand in miserable uncertainty all this time; she ought to have gone out at six o'clock.

In a low voice she said to her companion: 'There's Mr.Ackroyd.I want just to speak a word to him.

If you'll go on when we get up, I'll soon overtake you.' Mary acquiesced in silence.

Lydia, approaching, saw disappointment on the young man's face.