In Old Street, not far from Shoreditch Station, was a shabby little place of refreshment, kept by an Italian; pastry and sweet-stuff filled the window; at the back of the shop, through a doorway on each side of which was looped a pink curtain, a room, furnished with three marble-topped tables, invited those who wished to eat and drink more at ease than was possible before the counter.  Except on Sunday evening this room was very little used, and there, on the occasion of which I speak, Clem was sitting with Bob Hewett.  They had been having supper together—­French pastry and a cup of cocoa.

She leaned forward on her elbows, and said imperatively, ’Tell Pennyloaf to make it up with her again.’

‘Why?’

’Because I want to know what goes on in Hanover Street.  You was a fool to send her away, and you’d ought to have told me about it before now.  If they was such friends, I suppose the girl told her lots o’ things.  But I expect they see each other just the same.  You don’t suppose she does all you tell her?’

‘I’ll bet you what you like she does!’ cried Bob.

Clem glared at him.

‘Oh, you an’ your Pennyloaf!  Likely she tells you the truth.  You’re so fond of each other, ain’t you!  Tells you everything, does she?—­and the way you treat her!’

‘Who’s always at me to make me treat her worse still?’ Bob retorted half angrily, half in expostulation.

’Well, and so I am, ’cause I hate the name of her!  I’d like to hear as you starve her and her brats half to death.  How much money did you give her last week?  Now you just tell me the truth.  How much was it?’

‘How can I remember?  Three or four bob, I s’pose.’

‘Three or four bob!’ she repeated, snarling.  ’Give her one, and make her live all the week on it.  Wear her down!  Make her pawn all she has, and go cold!’

Her cheeks were on fire; her eyes started in the fury of jealousy; she set her teeth together.

‘I’d better do for her altogether,’ said Bob, with an evil grin.

Clam looked at him, without speaking; kept her gaze on him; then she said in a thick voice: 

‘There’s many a true word said in joke.’

Bob moved uncomfortably.  There was a brief silence, then the other, putting her face nearer his: 

’Not just yet.  I want to use her to get all I can about that girl and her old beast of a grandfather.  Mind you do as I tell you.  Pennyloaf’s to have her back again, and she’s to make her talk, and you’re to get all you can from Pennyloaf—­understand?’

There came noises from the shop.  Three work-girls had just entered and were buying cakes, which they began to eat at the counter.  They were loud in gossip and laughter, and their voices rang like brass against brass.  Clem amused herself in listening to them for a few minutes; then she became absent, moving a finger round and round on her plate.  A disagreeable flush still lingered under her eyes.