with infinite clearness and detail. He'd never met anything like
her before. Fancy that bolster of a barmaid being dressed in that
way! He whuffed a contemptuous laugh. He compared her colour, her
vigour, her voice, with the Young Ladies in Business with whom
his lot had been cast. Even in tears she was beautiful, more
beautiful indeed to him, for it made her seem softer and weaker,
more accessible. And such weeping as he had seen before had been
so much a matter of damp white faces, red noses, and hair coming
out of curl. Your draper's assistant becomes something of a judge
of weeping, because weeping is the custom of all Young Ladies in
Business, when for any reason their services are dispensed with.
She could weep--and (by Gosh!) she could smile. HE knew that, and
reverting to acting abruptly, he smiled confidentially at the
puckered pallor of the moon.

It is difficult to say how long Mr. Hoopdriver's pensiveness
lasted. It seemed a long time before his thoughts of action
returned. Then he remembered he was a 'watcher'; that to-morrow
he must be busy. It would be in character to make notes, and he
pulled out his little note-book. With that in hand he fell
a-thinking again. Would that chap tell her the 'tecks were after
them? If so, would she be as anxious to get away as HE was? He
must be on the alert. If possible he must speak to her. Just a
significant word, "Your friend--trust me!"--It occurred to him
that to-morrow these fugitives might rise early to escape. At
that he thought of the time and found it was half-past eleven.
"Lord!" said he, "I must see that I wake." He yawned and rose.
The blind was up, and he pulled back the little chintz curtains
to let the sunlight strike across to the bed, hung his watch
within good view of his pillow, on a nail that supported a