We must carry out the deception now, and go away together.
There was no other choice.

The policeman stared after us through the mist, rolling his night stick in his hand.

I heard him mutter to himself: "It 's a rum go o' sum koind.

Thet guy ain't dressed fer no dance.
But, dom me, if she 's the koind o' female ter run in aither.

Lord, but she 's got a foine pair o' eyes in the face ov' her." Close together, without venturing to speak or glance around, we walked forward into the enveloping mist.