She stopped at length, and said: ‘I suppose you don’t want to go in with me?’ ‘No.’ ‘Then I’ll say good-night. Thank you for coming so far out of your way.’ ‘I’ll wait. I may as well walk back with you, if you don’t mind.’ ‘Oh, very well. I shan’t be many minutes.’ She passed on and entered the place of refreshment that was kept by Mrs. Tubbs. Till recently it had been an ordinary eating-house or coffee-shop; but having succeeded in obtaining a license to sell strong liquors, Mrs. Tubbs had converted the establishment into one of a more pretentious kind. She called it ‘Imperial Restaurant and Luncheon Bar.’ The front shone with vermilion paint; the interior was aflare with many gas-jets; in the window was disposed a tempting exhibition of ‘snacks’ of fish, cold roast fowls, ham-sandwiches, and the like; whilst farther back stood a cooking-stove, whereon frizzled and vapoured a savoury mess of sausages and onions. Sidney turned away a few paces. The inclemency of the night made Upper Street—the promenade of a great district on account of its spacious pavement—less frequented than usual; but there were still numbers of people about, some hastening homewards, some sauntering hither and thither in the familiar way, some gathered into gossiping groups. Kirkwood was irritated by the conversation and laughter that fell on his ears, irritated by the distant strains of the band, irritated above all by the fume of frying that pervaded the air for many yards about Mrs. Tubbs’s precincts. He observed that the customers tending that way were numerous. They consisted mainly of lads and young men who had come forth from neighbouring places of entertainment. The locality and its characteristics had been familiar to him from youth upwards; but his nature was not subdued to what it worked in, and the present fit of disgust was only an accentuation of a mood by which he was often possessed. To the Hewetts he had spoken impartially of Mrs. Tubbs and her bar; probably that was the right view; but now there came back upon him the repugnance with which he had regarded Clara’s proposal when it was first made. It seemed to him that he had waited nearly half an hour when Clara came forth again. In silence she walked on beside him. Again they crossed by the ‘Angel’ and entered St. John Street Road. ‘You’ve made your arrangements?’ Sidney said, now that there were few people passing. ‘Yes; I shall go on Monday.’ ‘You’re going to live there altogether?’ ‘Yes; it’ll be more convenient, and then it’ll give them more room at home. Bob can sleep with the children, and save money.’ ‘To be sure!’ observed the young man with bitter irony. Clara flashed a glance at him. It was a new thing for Sidney to take this tone with her; not seldom he had expressed unfavourable judgments by silence, but he had never spoken to her otherwise than with deference and gentleness. ‘You don’t seem in a very good temper to-night, Mr. Kirkwood.’ she remarked in a suave tone.