'There will be no possibility of perfect faith between men until
there is no such thing as money! H'm, and when is that likely to
come to pass?'
Thus he epigrammatised to himself one evening, savagely enough, as
with head bent forward he plodded to Red Lion Street. Some one
addressed him; he looked up and saw Jane. Seemingly it was a chance
meeting, but she put a question at once almost as though she had
been waiting for him. 'Have you seen Pennyloaf lately, Mr.
Kirkwood?'
Pennyloaf? The name suggested Bob Hewett, who again suggested John
Hewett, and so Sidney fell upon thoughts of some one who two days
ago had found a refuge in John's home. To Michael he had said
nothing of what he knew concerning Clara; a fresh occasion of uneasy
thought. Bob Hewett--so John said--had no knowledge of his
sister's situation, otherwise Pennyloaf might have come to know
about it, and in that case, perchance, Jane herself. Why not? Into
what a wretched muddle of concealments and inconsistencies and
insincerities had he fallen!
'It's far too long since I saw her,' he replied, in that softened
tone which he found it impossible to avoid when his eyes met Jane's.
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