stand still, the policeman would come after him and ask questions which he would not be able to answer. He must keep moving, moving, God knew where, but moving. His feet made an alarming sound on the deserted pavements. Oh, what was he doing here? Why hadn't he waited till he got some money from somewhere, somehow, before he ran away? How formidably the doorways were barred against him! The plate-glass windows stared leering with baleful eyes. Some one had moved from a side street into the main road and was coming towards him. A lady it was. A real lady too, she seemed, as she came nearer and he saw the opulent nature of her clothing. Her skirts swished richly. There was a feather bobbing over the side of her hat. Channah had only one feather which she kept securely from year to year, dyeing it occasionally. There were three feathers in the lady's hat. What was she doing out just now? She couldn't possibly be running away, like himself. She was rather fat, she ought to be quite a decent sort. She introduced a sense of companionship into the appalling void of night. Joy! She had stopped and was talking to him! "Well, cockie!" she said, "it's rather late for a little 'un!" "Yes, ma'am!" he said respectfully. "Haven't you got a home? You look all right, your clothes and that!" "Yes, I have got a home!" "'Xcuse my asking like, but why aren't you in it? It's gone two, you know!" "Well, because ... it's because ... I ... I mean, he ..." "Oh, I understand, cockie!" she said kindly. "He's been and gone and chucked you out like, eh?" "He _hasn't_ chucked me out!" declared Philip hotly. "I've chucked myself out. I've run away from home!" "Phew!" she whistled. "That's the ticket, eh? You're a plucked 'un! But what are you going to do now?" "I don't know. Just walk, I suppose. I'll see!" "I like you, sonnie, I like your voice. Let's keep on, it'll never do to stand in one place, they don't like it. Just come to the lamp there. I'd like to look at you!" He found that a large, warm, somewhat flabby hand had taken his own. They walked together to a lamp. His friend got hold of his forehead with one hand and his chin with the other, and exposed his face to the falling lamplight. He caught a glimpse of the lady's face above the heavy chain of rolled gold that lay on her bosom. Her face was pallid round the fringes of the cheeks and on the tip of her nose, and by contrast, her cheeks were singularly red. Her lips too were red, quite unlike the red of Channah's lips and his mother's. It was a sleepy, fat face, rather kindly. There was something strange about her eyes, something like--well, funny eyes, anyhow! Hungry eyes they were, a little wild, yet they were sleepy and kind, too. Surely her breath didn't smell the least bit of beer? No, not such a thoroughly estimable lady! Perhaps it was beer ... the poor lady had to take for her health?