Still, it took all that day to reach it. We might have found out the railway station and taken a train: but I thought we ought to keep the little money we had left, for food. We walked for a while with a boy who had a great big basket on his back, that he had filled with onions: he showed us to a place where waggons came, to pick up vegetables for the city markets. We had missed the best of the traffic, but we got a ride, in the end, with a man with a slow horse, taking scarlet beans to Hammersmith. He said Charles made him think of his son—Charles had that sort of face—so I let them ride up front together, and sat in the back of the cart, with the beans. I sat with my cheek against a crate, my eyes on the road ahead, and now and then the road would rise and show us London again, grown a little nearer. I might have slept; but I couldnt keep from watg. I watched as the roads began to be busier and the try hedges began to give way to palings and walls; I watched the leaf bee brick, the grass bee ders and dust, the ditches
kerb-stones. When ohe cart drew close to the side of a house that asted, two ihick, with fluttering bills, I reached and tore free a strip of poster—held it for a sed, the fly. It had a picture of a hand upon it, holding a pistol. It left soot on my fingers. Then I knew I was home.
From Hammersmith, we walked. That part of London was strao me, but I found I knew my way all right—just as I had known, in the try, which road to take at a fork. Charles walked beside me, blinking, and sometimes catg hold of the cuff of my sleeve; in the end I took his hand to lead him across a street, a his fingers stay there. I saw us reflected in the glass of a great shop window—me in my bo, him in his plain pea-jacket—we looked like the Babes in the bloody Wood.
Then we reached Westminster, and got our first proper view of the river; and I had to stop.
Wait, Charles, I said, putting my hand to my heart and turning away from him. I did not want him to see me so stirred up. But then, the sharpest part of my feelings being over, I began to think.
We ought not to cross the water just yet, I said, as we walked on. I was thinking of who we might bump into. Suppose we ced upoleman? Or, suppose he ced upon us? I did not think he would put a hand upon me, himself; but fifteen thousand pounds is a deal of money, and I knew he t bullies to do his bad work for him. I had not thought of this, until now. I had thought only of reag London. I began to look about me, in a new way. Charles saw me do it.
What is it, miss? he said.
Nothing, I answered. Only, Im afraid there may still be me out by Dr Christie. Lets cut down here.
I took him down a dark and narrow street. But then I thought, a dark and narrow street would be the worst kind of street to be caught in. I turned instead—we were somewhere near Charing Cross now—into the Strand; and after a time we came to the end of a road that had one or two little stalls, selling sed-hand clothes. I went to the first we came to, and bought Charles a woollen scarf. For myself, I got a veil. The man who sold it to me teased me.
Dont care for a hat, instead? he said. Your face is too pretty to hide.
I held out my hand for my half-penny ge. All right, I said, impatient. Sos my arse.
Charles flinched. I did not care. I put on the veil a better. It looked badly above my bo and pale print gown, but I thought I might pass firl with scars, or with some