but I am interrupting. I will go." She put her arm round his neck.
He looked at her diamonds, and congratulated himself that she was
a lady.

"I am afraid I am interrupting you," she said again.

"Oh no, you aren't, I shall be done in half an hour; I have only got
a few more pages to read through. Escott went away, selfish brute
that he is, and has left me to do all the work."

She sat by his side contentedly reading what he had written. At
half-past two all the pages were passed for press, and they descended
the spiral iron staircase, through the grease and vinegar smell of
the ink, in view of heads and arms of a hundred compositors, in
hearing of the drowsy murmur of the reading-boy. Her brougham was at
the door. As she stepped in Mike screwed up his courage and said
good-bye.

"Won't you come?" she said, with disappointment in her eyes.

"No, not to-night. I have been slaving at that paper for the last
four hours. Thanks; not to-night. Good-bye; I'll see you next week."

The brougham rolled away, and Mike walked home. The hands of the
clocks were stretching towards three, and only a few drink-disfigured
creatures of thirty-five or forty lingered; so horrible were they
that he did not answer their salutations.