"Take you on?" exclaimed the other, with surprise. "Why, have you
fallen out with your cousin? I thought you was goin' to be married
soon."

"I didn't say for sure that I was; I only said I might be. Any way
it won't be just yet, and I'm tired of my place in the shop."

"Don't you be a fool, Harriet," said the other, with genial
frankness. "You're well enough off. You stick where you are till you
get married. You wouldn't make nothin' at our business; 'tain't all
sugar an' lemon, an' sittin' drinkin' twos o' whisky till further
orders. You want a quiet, easy business, you do, an' you've got it.
If you keep worritin' yerself this way, you won't never make old
bones, an' that's the truth. You wait a bit, an' give yer cousin a
chance to arst you,--if that's what you're troublin' about"

"I've given him lots o' chances," said Harriet peevishly.

"Eh well, give him lots more, an' it'll all come right. We're all
born, but we're not buried.--Hev' another Irish?"

Harriet allowed herself to be persuaded to take another glass.

When the clock pointed to half-past nine, she rose and prepared to
depart. She had told Mrs. Sprowl that she would take the 'bus and go
straight home; but something seemed to have led her to alter her
purpose, for she made her way to Westminster Bridge, and crossed the
river. Then she made some inquiries of a policeman, and, in
consequence, got into a Kennington omnibus. Very shortly she was set
down close by Walcot Square. She walked about till, with some