near the Westminster Bridge Road when Jim suggested that they should go and have one more drink before closing time.
'I shall be tight,' said Liza.
'Thet don't matter,' answered Jim, laughing. 'You ain't got ter go ter work in the mornin' an' you can sleep it aht.'
'Arright, I don't mind if I do then, in for a penny, in for a pound.'
At the pub door she drew back.
'I say, guv'ner,' she said, 'there'll be some of the coves from dahn our street, and they'll see us.'
'Na, there won't be nobody there, don't yer 'ave no fear.'
'I don't like ter go in for fear of it.'
'Well, we ain't doin' no 'arm if they does see us, an' we can go into the private bar, an' you bet your boots there won't be no one there.'
She yielded, and they went in.
'Two pints of bitter, please, miss,' ordered Jim.
'I say, 'old 'ard. I can't drink more than 'alf a pint,' said Liza.
'Cheese it,' answered Jim. 'You can do with all you can get, I know.'
At closing time they left and walked down the broad road which led homewards.
'Let's 'ave a little sit dahn,' said Jim, pointing to an empty bench between two trees.
'Na, it's gettin' lite; I want ter be 'ome.'
'It's such a fine night, it's a pity ter go in already;' and he drew her unresisting towards the seat. He put his arm round her waist.
'Un'and me, villin!' she said, in apt misquotation of the melodrama, but Jim only laughed, and she made no effort to disengage herself.
They sat there for a long while in silence; the beer had got to Liza's head, and the warm night air filled her with a double intoxication. She felt the arm round her waist, and the big, heavy form pressing against her side; she experienced again the curious sensation as if her heart were about to burst, and it choked her--a feeling so oppressive and painful it almost made her feel sick. Her hands began to tremble, and her breathing grew rapid, as though she were suffocating. Almost fainting, she swayed over towards the man, and a cold shiver ran through her from top to toe. Jim bent over her, and, taking her in both arms, he pressed his lips to hers in a long, passionate kiss. At last, panting for breath, she turned her head away and groaned.
Then they again sat for a long while in silence, Liza full of a strange happiness, feeling as if she could laugh aloud hysterically, but restrained by the calm and silence of the night. Close behind struck a church clock--one.
'Bless my soul!' said Liza, starting, 'there's one o'clock. I must get 'ome.'
'It's so nice out 'ere; do sty, Liza.' He pressed her closer to him. 'Yer know, Liza, I love yer--fit ter kill.'
'Na, I can't stay; come on.' She got up from the seat, and pulled him up too. 'Come on,' she said.
Without speaking they went along, and there was no one to be seen either in front or behind them. He had not got his arm round her now, and they were walking side by side, slightly separated. It was Liza who spoke first.
'You'd better go dahn the Road and by the church an' git into Vere Street the other end, an' I'll go through the passage, so thet no one shouldn't see us comin' together,' she spoke almost in a whisper.
'Arright, Liza,' he answered, 'I'll do just as you tell me.'
They came to the passage of which Liza spoke; it was a narrow way between blank walls, the backs of factories, and it led into the upper end of Vere Street. The entrance to it was guarded by two iron posts in the middle so that horses or barrows should not be taken through.
They had just got to it when a man came out into the open road. Liza quickly turned her head away.
'I wonder if 'e see us,' she said, when he had passed out of earshot. ''E's lookin' back,' she added.
'Why, 'oo is it?' asked Jim.
'It's a man aht of our street,' she answered. 'I dunno 'im, but I know where 'e lodges. D'yer think 'e sees us?'
'Na, 'e wouldn't know 'oo it was in the dark.'
'But he looked round; all the street'll know it if he see us.'
'Well, we ain't doin' no 'arm.'
She stretched out her hand to say good night.
'I'll come a wy with yer along the passage,' said Jim.
'Na, you mustn't; you go straight round.'
'But it's so dark; p'raps summat'll 'appen to yer.'
'Not it! You go on 'ome an' leave me,' she replied, and entering the passage, stood facing him with one of the iron pillars between them.
'Good night, old cock,' she said, stretching out her hand. He took it, and said:
'I wish yer wasn't goin' ter leave me, Liza.'
