formed now a constant cause of wrangling between husband and wife, each
trying to secure the lion's share, only to spend it at the public-house.

At last, without one penny of that small sum of threepence, which she had
mentally fixed on as the price of a domestic truce, she had got back to
within fifteen minutes' walk of Moon Street. Her anxiety had made her
more eager perhaps, and had given a strange tremor to her voice and made
her eyes more eloquent in their silent pathos, when two young men pushed
by her, walking fast and conversing, but she did not let them pass
without repeating the oft-repeated words.

"No, indeed, you little fraud!" exclaimed one of the young men; while his
companion, glancing back, looked curiously into her face.

"Stop a moment," he said to his friend. "Don't be afraid, I'm not going
to pay. But, I say, just look at her eyes--good eyes, aren't they?"

The other turned round laughing, and stared hard at her face. Fan
reddened and dropped her eyes. Finally he took a penny from his pocket
and held it up before her. "Take," he said. She took the penny, thanking
him with a grateful glance, whereupon he laughed and turned away,
remarking that he had got his money's worth.

She was nearly back to her own street again before anyone else noticed
her; then she met a very large important-looking gentleman, with a lady
at his side--a small, thin, meagre woman, with a dried yellow face,
wearing spectacles. The lady stopped very deliberately before Fan, and
scrutinised her face.

"Come along," said her husband or companion. "You are not going to stop