She must go home, and wait for a possible communication on the morrow.
Swinging her skirts, clenching her fists, and talking silently at a great rate, she walked in the direction of Chancery Lane.

At a corner someone going in the opposite direction caught sight of her and stopped.

Polly was so preoccupied that she would not have noticed the figure had it merely passed; by stopping it drew her attention, and she beheld Christopher Parish.
"Why, Miss Sparkes!" He held out his hand, but to no purpose.

Polly had her eyes fixed upon him, and they flashed with hostility.
"What do you mean by it ?" "Mean by what ?" The young man was astonished; his hand dropped, and he trembled before her.
"How dare you spy after me?
Nasty little wretch!" "Spy after you, Miss Sparkes?
Why, I hadn't the least idea of anything of the kind; I swear I hadn't! I was just taking a walk--" "Oh, yes! Of course! You're always taking a walk, aren't you?
And you always come just this way 'cause it's nice and convenient for Lambeth Road, ain't it?
I've a good mind to call a p'liceman and give you in charge for stopping me in the street!" "Well, did ever anybody hear such a thing as this ?" exclaimed Mr.
Parish, faint in voice and utterly at a loss for protestations at all effective.

"I tell you I was only taking a walk--that's to say, I've been with a friend." "A friend?
Oh, yes, of course.