er tried to speak to her, but
as she passed him, pretending to look in front of her, she could see
that he always blushed, and she fancied his eyes were very sorrowful.
Then several weeks went by, and as she began to feel more and more
lonely in the street she regretted the quarrel; she cried a little as
she thought that she had lost his faithful gentle love and she would
have much liked to be friends with him again. If he had only made some
advance she would have welcomed him so cordially, but she was too
proud to go to him herself and beg him to forgive her--and then how
could he forgive her?

She had lost Sally too, for on her marriage Harry had made her give up
the factory; he was a young man with principles worthy of a Member of
Parliament, and he had said:

'A woman's plice is 'er 'ome, an' if 'er old man can't afford ter keep
'er without 'er workin' in a factory--well, all I can say is thet 'e'd
better go an' git single.'

'Quite right, too,' agreed his mother-in-law; 'an' wot's more, she'll
'ave a baby ter look after soon, an' thet'll tike 'er all 'er time,
an' there's no one as knows thet better than me, for I've 'ad twelve,
ter sy nothin' of two stills an' one miss.'

Liza quite envied Sally her happiness, for the bride was brimming
over with song and laughter; her happiness overwhelmed her.

'I am 'appy,' she said to Liza one day a few weeks after her marriage.
'You dunno wot a good sort 'Arry is. 'E's just a darlin', an' there's
no mistikin' it. I don't care wot other people sy, but wot I says is,
there's nothin' like marriage. Never a cross word passes his lips, an'
mother 'as all 'er meals with us an' 'e says all the better. Well I'm
thet 'appy I simply dunno if I'm standin' on my 'ead or on my 'eels.'

But alas! it did not last too long. Sally was not so full of joy when
next Liza met her, and one day her eyes looked very much as if she had
been crying.

'Wot's the matter?' asked Liza, looking at her. 'Wot 'ave yer been
blubberin' abaht?'

'Me?' said Sally, getting very red. 'Oh, I've got a bit of a
toothache, an'--well, I'm rather a fool like, an' it 'urt so much that
I couldn't 'elp cryin'.'

Liza was not satisfied, but could get nothing further out of her. Then
one day it came out. It was a Saturday night, the time when women in
Vere Street weep. Liza went up into Sally's room for a few minutes on
her way to the Westminster Bridge Road, where she was to meet Jim.
Harry had taken the top bac