e said.

But he took no notice.

"Did you ever intend to marry Jim Bricknell?" he asked.

"Yes, of course."

"I can't imagine it," he said.

"Why not?"

Both were watching blankly the roaring night of mid-London, the
phantasmagoric old Bloomsbury Square. They were still hand in hand.

"Such as you shouldn't marry," he said.

"But why not? I want to."

"You think you do."

"Yes indeed I do."

He did not say any more.

"Why shouldn't I?" she persisted. "I don't know--"

And again he was silent.

"You've known some life, haven't you?" he asked.

"Me? Why?"

"You seem to."

"Do I? I'm sorry. Do I seem vicious?--No, I'm not vicious.--I've seen
some life, perhaps--in Paris mostly. But not much. Why do you ask?"

"I wasn't thinking."

"But what do you mean? What are you thinking?"

"Nothing. Nothing."

"Don't be so irritating," said she.

But he did not answer, and she became silent also. They sat hand in
hand.

"Won't you kiss me?" came her voice out of the darkness.

He waited some moments, then his voice sounded gently, half mocking,
half reproachful.

"Nay!" he said.

"Why not?"

"I don't want to."

"Why not?" she asked.

He laughed, but did not reply.

She sat perfectly still for some time. She had ceased to cry. In the
darkness her face was set and sullen. Sometimes a spray of rain blew
across it. She drew her hand from his, and rose to her feet.

"Ill go in now," she said.

"You're not offended, are you?" he asked.

"No. Why?"

They stepped down in the darkness from their perch.

"I wondered."

She strode off for some little way. Then she turned and said:

"Yes, I think it is rather insulting."

"Nay," he said. "Not it! Not it!"

And he followed her to the gate.

She opened with her key, and they crossed the road to her door.

"Good-night," she said, turning and giving him her hand.

"You'll come and have dinner with me--or lunch--will you? When shall we
make it?" he asked.

"Well, I can't say for certain--I'm very busy just now. I'll let you
know."

A policeman shed his light on the pair of them as they stood on the
step.

"All right," said Aaron, dropping back, and she hastily opened the big
door, and entered.

CHAPTER VIII. A PUNCH IN THE WIND

The Lillys had a labourer's cottage in Hampshire--pleasant enough. They
were poor. Lilly was a little, dark, thin, quick fellow, his wife was
strong and fair. They had known Robert and Julia for some