She was not alone. A man was with her, and in an instant I recognised
him.
It was the thin, shabby-genteel man whom I had seen with Aline in the
Park--the man who had urged her to commit some crime the reason of which
was a mystery.
She was laughing at some words her companion had uttered, and brushing
past me unnoticed took his arm as she descended the stairs, worn
slippery by the tramp of the million wearied feet.
I hesitated in amazement. This shabby scoundrel was her lover. She had
preferred him to me. A great jealousy arose within me, and next moment
I rushed after them down the stairs.