. "D'you like a walk? I mean ... I'm very fond of
it, a night like this. Mr. Blanchard's all right, I suppose?"

"Oh, yes. _She's_ there." Emmy could not bring herself to name Jenny to
him. Yet her mind was busy thinking of the earlier jar, recomposing the
details, recalling the words that had passed. Memory brought tears into
her eyes; but she would not allow Alf to see them, and soon she
recovered her self-control. It had to be spoken of: the evening could
not pass without reference to it; or it would spoil everything. Alf
would think of her--he was bound to think of her--as a crying, petulant,
jealous woman, to whom he had been merely kind. Patronising, even!
Perhaps, even, the remembrance of it would prevent him from coming again
to the house. Men like Alf were so funny in that respect. It took so
little to displease them, to drive them away altogether. At last she
ventured: "It was nice of you to take me."

Alf fidgeted, jerking his head, and looking recklessly about him.

"Not at all," he grumbled. "Not tired, are you?" Emmy reassured him.
"What I mean, I'm very glad.... Now, look here, Em. May as well have
it out...." Emmy's heart gave a bound: she walked mechanically beside
him, her head as stiffly held as though the muscles of her neck had
been paralysed. "May as well, er...have it out," repeated Alf. "That's
how I am--I like to be all shipshape from the start. When I came along
this evening I _did_ mean to ask young Jen to go with me. That was
quite as you thought. I never thought you'd, you know, _care_ to come
with me. I don't know why; but there it is. I never meant to put it like
I did ... in that way... to have a fuss and upset anybody. I've ... I
mean, she's been out with me half-a-dozen times; and so I sort of
naturally thought of her."

"Of course," agreed Emmy. "Of course."

"But I 'm glad you came," Alf said. Something in his honesty, and the
brusqueness of his rejoicing, touched Emmy, and healed her first
wound--the thought that she might have been unwelcome to him. They went
on a little way, more at ease; both ready for the next step in intimacy
which was bound to be taken by one of them.

"I thought she might have said something to you--about me not _wanting_
to come," Emmy proceeded, tentatively. "Made you think I never wanted
to go out."

Alf shook his head. Emmy had there no opening for her resentment.

"No," he said, with stubborn loyalty. "She's always talked very nice
about you."