For a wonder, there was no fog tonight, but the street lamps glistened on wet pavements, and vehicles as they rattled along sent mud-volleys to either side.

In passing through Lambeth Walk, Lydia stopped at the clothing shop of which Thyrza had spoken.

The particular brownish coat had seemingly been carried off by a purchaser, but she was glad to notice one or two second-hand garments of very respectable appearance which came within the sum at her command.

She passed on into Paradise Street and entered Mrs.Bower's shop.
In the parlour the portly Mr.Bower stood with his back to the fire; he was speaking oracularly, and, at Lydia's entrance, looked up with some annoyance at being interrupted.

Mr.Boddy sat in his accustomed corner.
Mrs.Bower, arrayed in the grandeur suitable to a winter evening, was condescending to sew.
'Mary out ?' Lydia asked, as she looked round.
'Yes, my dear,' replied Mrs.Bower, with a sigh of resignation.