'But perhaps it
isn't true what Mrs. Tubbs says. Do go an' speak to her before it's
too late. Say we won't ask her to come 'ome, if only she'll let us
know what she's goin' to do.'
In the end he promised to perform this service, and to communicate
the result that evening. It was Saturday; at half-past one he left
the workroom, hastened home to prepare himself for the visit, and,
without thinking of dinner, set out to find the address Mrs. Hewett
had given him. His steps were directed to a dull street on the north
of Pentonville Road; the house at which he mad e inquiry was
occupied by a drum-manufacturer. Miss Hewett, he learnt, was not at
home; she had gone forth two hours ago, and nothing was known of her
movements. Sidney turned away and began to walk up and down the
shadowed side of the street; there was no breath of air stirring,
and from the open windows radiated stuffy odours. A quarter of an
hour sufficed to exasperate him with anxiety and physical malaise.
He suffered from his inability to do anything at once, from conflict
with himself as to whether or not it behoved him to speak with John
Hewett; of Clara he thought with anger rather than fear, for her
behaviour seemed to prove that nothing had happened save the
inevitable breach with Mrs.
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