etimes Liza fell into a light
doze, and Jim would sit very still for fear of waking her, and when
she roused herself she would smile, while he bent down again and
kissed her. They were very happy. But the hours passed by so quickly,
that Big Ben striking twelve came upon them as a surprise, and
unwillingly they got up and made their way homewards; their partings
were never ending--each evening Jim refused to let her go from his
arms, and tears stood in his eyes at the thought of the separation.

'I'd give somethin',' he would say, 'if we could be togither always.'

'Never mind, old chap!' Liza would answer, herself half crying, 'it
can't be 'elped, so we must jolly well lump it.'

But notwithstanding all their precautions people in Vere Street
appeared to know. First of all Liza noticed that the women did not
seem quite so cordial as before, and she often fancied they were
talking of her; when she passed by they appeared to look at her, then
say something or other, and perhaps burst out laughing; but when she
approached they would immediately stop speaking, and keep silence in a
rather awkward, constrained manner. For a long time she was unwilling
to believe that there was any change in them, and Jim who had observed
nothing, persuaded her that it was all fancy. But gradually it became
clearer, and Jim had to agree with her that somehow or other people
had found out. Once when Liza had been talking to Polly, Jim's
daughter, Mrs. Blakeston had called her, and when the girl had come to
her mother Liza saw that she spoke angrily, and they both looked
across at her. When Liza caught Mrs. Blakeston's eye she saw in her
face a surly scowl, which almost frightened her; she wanted to brave
it out, and stepped forward a little to go and speak with the woman,
but Mrs. Blakeston, standing still, looked so angrily at her that she
was afraid to. When she told Jim his face grew dark, and he said:
'Blast the woman! I'll give 'er wot for if she says anythin' ter you.'

'Don't strike 'er, wotever 'appens, will yer, Jim?' said Liza.

'She'd better tike care then!' he answered, and he told her that
lately his wife had been sulking, and not speaking to him. The
previous night, on coming home after the day's work and bidding her
'Good evenin',' she had turned her back on him without answering.

'Can't you answer when you're spoke to?' he had said.

'Good evenin',' she had replied sulkily, with her back still turned.

After that Liza