He hurried on. He was conscious of a curious feeling that somebody was just going to kick him, but he dared not look round. * * * * * Constable Plimmer eyed the middle distance with an earnest gaze. His face was redder than ever. Beneath his blue tunic strange emotions were at work. Something seemed to be filling his throat. He tried to swallow it. He stopped in his stride. The girl glanced up at him in a kind of dull, questioning way. Their eyes met for the first time that afternoon, and it seemed to Constable Plimmer that whatever it was that was interfering with the inside of his throat had grown larger, and more unmanageable. There was the misery of the stricken animal in her gaze. He had seen women look like that in Whitechapel. The woman to whom, indirectly, he owed his broken nose had looked like that. As his hand had fallen on the collar of the man who was kicking her to death, he had seen her eyes. They were Ellen's eyes, as she stood there now--tortured, crushed, yet uncomplaining. Constable Plimmer looked at Ellen, and Ellen looked at Constable Plimmer. Down the street some children were playing with a dog. In one of the flats a woman began to sing. 'Hop it,' said Constable Plimmer. He spoke gruffly. He found speech difficult. The girl started. 'What say?' 'Hop it. Get along. Run away.' 'What do you mean?' Constable Plimmer scowled. His face was scarlet. His jaw protruded like a granite break-water. 'Go on,' he growled. 'Hop it. Tell him it was all a joke. I'll explain at the station.' Understanding seemed to come to her slowly. 'Do you mean I'm to go?' 'Yes.' 'What do you mean? You aren't going to take me to the station?' 'No.' She stared at him. Then, suddenly, she broke down, 'He wouldn't look at me. He was ashamed of me. He pretended not to see me.' She leaned against the wall, her back shaking. 'Well, run after him, and tell him it was all--' 'No, no, no.' Constable Plimmer looked morosely at the side-walk. He kicked it. She turned. Her eyes were red, but she was no longer crying. Her chin had a brave tilt. 'I couldn't--not after what he did. Let's go along. I--I don't care.' She looked at him curiously. 'Were you really going to have let me go?' Constable Plimmer nodded. He was aware of her eyes searching his face, but he did not meet them. 'Why?' He did not answer. 'What would have happened to you, if you had have done?' Constable Plimmer's scowl was of the stuff of which nightmares are made. He kicked the unoffending side-walk with an increased viciousness. 'Dismissed the Force,' he said curtly. 'And sent to prison, too, I shouldn't wonder.' 'Maybe.' He heard her draw a deep breath, and silence fell upon them again. The dog down the road had stopped barking. The woman in the flat had stopped singing. They were curiously alone. 'Would you have done all that for me?' she said. 'Yes.' 'Why?'