her eyes. We must carry out the deception now, and go away together.
There was no other choice. The policeman stared after us through the
mist, rolling his night stick in his hand. I heard him mutter to
himself:

"It 's a rum go o' sum koind. Thet guy ain't dressed fer no dance.
But, dom me, if she 's the koind o' female ter run in aither. Lord,
but she 's got a foine pair o' eyes in the face ov' her."

Close together, without venturing to speak or glance around, we walked
forward into the enveloping mist. Her fingers, for appearances' sake,
barely touched the rough cloth of my sleeve. All this had occurred so
swiftly, so suddenly, that I was yet bewildered, unable to decide on a
course of action. The girl, I noticed, was breathing heavily from
excitement, her eyes cast down upon the wet pavement. Once, beneath
the glow of the lamp at the first corner, I ventured to glance slyly
aside at her, in curiosity, mentally photographing the clear outline of
her features, the strands of light brown hair straggling rebelliously
from beneath the wide brim of the hat. I was of rather reckless
nature, careless, and indifferent in my relationship with women. A bit
of audacious speech trembled on my lips, but remained unuttered. My
earlier conception that she was a woman of the street died within me.
There was more than a mere hint of character about that resolute mouth,
the white contour of cheek. She glanced furtively back across her
shoulder--evidently the policeman had disappeared, for she released her
slight grasp of my arm, although continuing to walk quietly enough by
my side, her face partially averted. The night was deathly still, the
sodden walk underfoot scarcely echoing our footfalls, the weird mist
closing denser about us, as we advanced.