"Very well. And make her _stay_ on her rug, and you had better not go
far; the fog is deepening again."
Nell went out into the street. At the corner she met Ted.
"You? Where are the others?" he asked innocently, showing faint
surprise.
"At Madame Tussaud's. Good-bye," she said.
"Where are you off to, Nell?"
"A walk---a long walk--" Something prompted her to add, "just me and
Kate Kearney."
"You needn't be afraid that I shall offer my escort. Am I allowed to
suggest that it's beginning to sleet, and that the fog is getting
thicker?"
The deadly politeness of his tone afforded her a small satisfaction.
"You may suggest what you like," she assured him, "only--do you mind
suggesting it to the lamp-post? It's cold standing here."
"Oh, certainly. I've never come to embracing a lamp-post yet, but I
daresay it's better to talk to than some people are!"
The grand sweep with which he raised his hat, and the dignified sarcasm
of his tone, lifted the words above mere childishness.
Nell walked on down Gardiner Street. The fact that she could not help
feeling that it would be comfortable to have Ted's sturdy figure beside
her irritated her.
She felt a touch on her arm. Through the yellowing fog Ted smiled at
her.
"I say, Nell, I can't stand it! You'd be on my conscience. You know
you don't know your way about a bit, and if the fog comes down--"
She began to smile warmly.
"Since Denis has deserted you," cheerfully he blundered, "you'll let me
order you about, eh?"
The "eh" held a suddenly surprised inflection, brought about by the
change in her face.
"You're downright impertinent!" she stormed. "Do go away! How can you
thrust yourself where you're not wanted?"
She hurried on, leaving silence behind her.
The lamps were alight; they shone pale and blurred through the fog. The
lights from the shops made little pathways of misty light across the
pavement. It was very raw, the air was bitter, wet, laden with sleet.
She had not brought an umbrella with her; she was so unused to
umbrellas. She turned up the collar of her coat, and valiantly
suppressed a shiver. Kate Kearney trotted dejectedly at her heels.
"We will go for a long walk, K.K., won't we? And then we will take an
omnibus back again. There are always omnibuses in London to take one
everywhere.... Some people are so fussy and frumpish, aren't they?"
She was in dull, quiet streets; the effect of the tall houses, wet,
ghostlike in the fog, was gloomy, weird. They got on her nerves, set
them jarring. A deep depression seized upon her; she ceased trying to
fight it. She was too cold, too wretched. She found herself suddenly
in a dirty, noisy street, amongst innumerable barrows, innumerable
ragged children. Everyone was shouting, it seemed to her; their voices
were hideous. Everyone jostled her. She was afraid, horribly afraid.
It was all so squalid, so inexpressibly sordid. She shrank back
appalled. The noise set her head throbbing and aching. Through the fog
she could discern an unending stream of traffic; she could see
omnibuses. But to get to one she must slip between two barrows--venture
into that muddy road. She hesitated, went on nervously, at a loss. She
walked up the Hampstead Road, and came out upon Euston Road, where
numberless omnibuses were drawn up. The noise was worse than before.
She tried to find out which was her omnibus by listening to the
conductors' raucous voices. She was deafened by the din.
"King's Cross! Baker Street! 'Ammersmith! Victoria!"
She approached the nearest conductor, and asked if he went to Henley
Road.
"What road, miss?"
"Henley Road."
'"Enley Road? Where is it, miss?"
"It,"--she faltered, at a loss,--"oh," brightening--"it leads out of
Gardiner Street!"
"Never 'eard of it, miss."
"It's not very far from Horton Square."
"Oh, we don't go anywhere near there."
He hopped on to his step and rang the bell.
She stood on the curb, looking at the other omnibuses with a weary
disinclination to ask again. She held Kate Kearney in her arms, in
terror of the traffic. A boy was shouting almost in her ear: "_Star_!
Daring burglary by d'ylight! _Star_! Murder in the West End! _Evening
News_! Duke of Oldchester run over by a motor! Great Strike in
Nottingham! Families starving!..."
She turned from him with a sense of physical repulsion. She went forward
and accosted another conductor.
"That dawg with you, miss? Can't take a dawg in a 'bus! Not allowed,
miss!"
He shouted as a consolatory afterthought: "'E can run alongside, you
know!"
She gave a sudden hysterical little laugh. She glanced at the crowded
road, and down at Kate Kearney, cowering in her arms. She moved forward
slowly, not knowing which way Henley Road lay. She was tired out; she
had never felt so tired and forlorn in all her life. The sea of people,
of traffic, the noise, the shouts, bewildered her, dazed her. She moved
away hurriedly from the newspaper boys, who seemed, to her shrinking
fancy, to be gloating with aggressive noise over endless horrors.
"We--we've got to walk back, K.K. I've only sixpence, so we can't drive
at all. Oh, K.K.--I--I'm going to cry--"
"Expect you'll bite my head off, but you've just got to put up with me!"
Out of the yellow fog--out of the chaotic nightmarish hubbub--a
broad-shouldered figure, a gruff, sulky voice, suddenly became clear to
her.
"Oh!" she gasped.
Ted took hold of her elbow and shouldered his way through the crowd.
She submitted weakly, occupied chiefly in swallowing ignominious tears.
She found herself being helped into a hansom. She heard him say,
"Fuller's--Regent Street." Then he seated himself beside her.
"Is it--a station?" she asked.
"No. You're going to have some tea before you go home."
"Oh!"
There was a silence. She cudgelled dull brains for something to say,
then having found it, turned it over and over in her mind, distrusting
her voice, till it grew silly and meaningless, and she let it go. The
silence got on her nerves; she almost began to laugh helplessly; she
burst out in an odd voice:--
"W-what a funny action the horse has!"
"Took the first that came. Couldn't wait to pick and choose."
"Of course not," she hurried to agree with meek haste.
The silence fell again. She cast a swift glance at Ted's profile; it
was very grim and very cross. She couldn't let the silence last; it
worried her past bearing.
"Kate Kearney is getting perky," she said.
"Yes?" said Ted.