Poor slowwitted
mortal though she was, a devoted fidelity attached her to her
husband, and quickened wonderfully her apprehension in everything
that concerned him.
'Miss Snowdon came to-day, Bob,' she had said, about a week after
his order with regard to Jane.
'Oh, she did? And did you tell her she'd better keep away?'
'Yes,' was the dispirited answer.
'Glad to hear it.'
As for Jack Bartley, he never showed himself at the new lodgings.
Bob shortly became less regular in his attendance at the workshop.
An occasional Monday he had, to be sure, been in the habit of
allowing himself, but as the winter wore on he was more than once
found straying about the streets in midweek. One morning towards the
end of November, as he strolled along High Holborn, a hand checked
his progress; he gave almost a leap, and turned a face of terror
upon the person who stopped him. It was Clem--Mrs. Snowdon. They
had, of course, met casually since Bob's marriage, and in progress
of time the ferocious glances they were wont to exchange had
softened into a grin of half-friendly recognition; Clem's behaviour
at present was an unexpected revival of familiarity.
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