Andrew and Eva worked in Lloyd's.
She was near the last factory when she met a man hastening along with bent shoulders, of intent, middle-aged progress.

After he had passed her with a careless glance at the small, swift figure, she smelt coffee.

He was carrying home a pound for his breakfast supply.
That suddenly made her cry, though she did not know why.

That familiar odor of home and the wontedness of life made her isolation on her little atom of the unusual more pitiful.

The man turned round sharply when she sobbed.