exhaled, denoting he had consumed at least his share of that other
half-quartern which postponed his departure.

Dorothea slipped her arm in his, and clung to him with the fond
tenacity of a woman who loves heart and soul, poor thing, to her cost.

His manner was an admirable combination of low-class gallantry with
pitying condescension.

"Why, Doll," said he, "what's up now? You don't look hearty, my lass.
Step in and take a dram; it'll do you good."

She glanced admiringly in the comely dissipated face.

"Ah! they may well call you Gentleman Jim," she answered; "you're fit
to be a lord of the land, you are; and so you would, if I was queen.
But I doesn't want you to treat me, Jim, leastways not this turn; I
wants you to come for a walk, dear. I've a bit of news for you. It's
business, Jim," she added, somewhat ruefully, "or I wouldn't go for to
ask."

His face, which had fallen a little, assuming that wearied expression
a woman ought most to dread on the face she cares for, brightened
considerably.

"Come on, lass!" he exclaimed, "business first, and pleasure arter.
Speak up, and let's hear all about it."

They had turned from the main thoroughfare into a dark and quiet
by-street. She crossed her work-worn hands on his arm, and proceeded