“No,” her voice steadying, now she realized she must carry out the deception.  “My place is three blocks yet, around the next corner.”

“Thet ‘s a prutty thin story, Miss.  Then whut wus the two ov’ yer doin’ in here?”

She clutched the brick coping with one hand, never glancing toward me, her eyes fixed imploringly on the glistening face of the questioning policeman.  Yet she responded instantly with the quick wit of a clever woman.

“I had my foot on the step, tying my shoe,” she explained simply.  “You don’t arrest people for that, do you?”

It was plain enough the officer was puzzled, yet he reluctantly released his grip on my arm, boring the end of his club into the brick wall.

“It’s half Oi’ belave yer stringin’ me roight now,” he announced doubtfully, “but Oi ‘ll give yer ther benefit ov’ the doubt; only the two ov’ yer better kape on a-goin’ till yer git under cover.  Don’t let me run across yer along this beat agin ternight.  Be gory av yer do, Oi ’ll let yer explain to ther sargint over at ther station.  Go on now!”

I felt her hand touch my sleeve timidly, and caught a swift glimpse of her eyes.  We must carry out the deception now, and go away together.  There was no other choice.  The policeman stared after us through the mist, rolling his night stick in his hand.  I heard him mutter to himself: 

“It ‘s a rum go o’ sum koind.  Thet guy ain’t dressed fer no dance.  But, dom me, if she ‘s the koind o’ female ter run in aither.  Lord, but she ‘s got a foine pair o’ eyes in the face ov’ her.”

Close together, without venturing to speak or glance around, we walked forward into the enveloping mist.  Her fingers, for appearances’ sake, barely touched the rough cloth of my sleeve.  All this had occurred so swiftly, so suddenly, that I was yet bewildered, unable to decide on a course of action.  The girl, I noticed, was breathing heavily from excitement, her eyes cast down upon the wet pavement.  Once, beneath the glow of the lamp at the first corner, I ventured to glance slyly aside at her, in curiosity, mentally photographing the clear outline of her features, the strands of light brown hair straggling rebelliously from beneath the wide brim of the hat.  I was of rather reckless nature, careless, and indifferent in my relationship with women.  A bit of audacious speech trembled on my lips, but remained unuttered.  My earlier conception that she was a woman of the street died within me.  There was more than a mere hint of character about that resolute mouth, the white contour of cheek.  She glanced furtively back across her shoulder—­evidently the policeman had disappeared, for she released her slight grasp of my arm, although continuing to walk quietly enough by my side, her face partially averted.  The night was deathly still, the sodden walk underfoot scarcely echoing our footfalls, the weird mist closing denser about us, as we advanced.