Liza and Tom and the Blakestons had got a seat together, Liza being
between the two men. Tom was perfectly happy, and only wished that
they might go on so for ever. Gradually as they drove along they
became quieter, their singing ceased, and they talked in undertones.
Some of them slept; Sally and her young man were leaning up against
one another, slumbering quite peacefully. The night was beautiful, the
sky still blue, very dark, scattered over with countless brilliant
stars, and Liza, as she looked up at the heavens, felt a certain
emotion, as if she wished to be taken in someone's arms, or feel some
strong man's caress; and there was in her heart a strange sensation as
though it were growing big. She stopped speaking, and all four were
silent. Then slowly she felt Tom's arm steal round her waist,
cautiously, as though it were afraid of being there; this time both
she and Tom were happy. But suddenly there was a movement on the other
side of her, a hand was advanced along her leg, and her hand was
grasped and gently pressed. It was Jim Blakeston. She started a little
and began trembling so that Tom noticed it, and whispered:

'You're cold, Liza.'

'Na, I'm not, Tom; it's only a sort of shiver thet went through me.'

His arm gave her waist a squeeze, and at the same time the big rough
hand pressed her little one. And so she sat between them till they
reached the 'Red Lion' in the Westminster Bridge Road, and Tom said to
himself: 'I believe she does care for me after all.'

When they got down they all said good night, and Sally and Liza, with
their respective slaves and the Blakestons, marched off homewards. At
the corner of Vere Street Harry said to Tom and Blakeston: