"I'm afraid I've kept you waiting," she said, crisply.

"Not at all," said Hardy. "I've been very comfortable."

Miss Nugent repressed a shiver and, crossing to the fire, thoughtlessly
extended her fingers over the blaze.

"I'm afraid you're cold," said Hardy.

The girl looked round sharply. His face, or as much of it as she could
see in the firelight, bore a look of honest concern somewhat at variance
with the quality of his voice. If it had not been for the absurdity of
altering her plans on his account she would have postponed her visit to
the steward until another day.

The walk to Fullalove Alley was all too short for Jem Hardy. Miss Nugent
stepped along with the air of a martyr anxious to get to the stake and
have it over, and she answered in monosyllables when her companion
pointed out the beauties of the night.

A bitter east wind blew up the road and set her yearning for the joys of
Mr. Wilks's best room. "It's very cold," she said, shivering.

Hardy assented, and reluctantly quickened his pace to keep step with
hers. Miss Nugent with her chin sunk in a fur boa looked neither to the
right nor the left, and turning briskly into the alley, turned the handle
of Mr. Wilks's door and walked in, leaving her companion to follow.

The steward, who was smoking a long pipe over the fire, looked round in