"You're so clever at picking them up." He made a little grimace, but lit a cigarette and turned up his coat collar.
"I'll do my best," he promised.

"Don't go on without me." "Try up towards Charing Cross Road, not the other way," she advised earnestly.
"Right-oh!" he replied, which illuminative form of assent, a word spoken as he plunged unwillingly into the thick obscurity on the other side of the revolving doors, was probably the last he ever uttered on earth.
Left alone, the girl began to shiver, as though suddenly cold.

She turned around and glanced hurriedly back into the restaurant.

At that moment she met the steady, questioning scrutiny of Francis' eyes.

She stood as though transfixed.