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.
She was on her way home from the soupkitchen, where certain occupations had kept her much later than usual; this, however, was far out of her way, and Sidney remarked on the fact, perversely, when she had offered this explanation of her meeting him. Jane did not reply. They walked on together, towards Islington.
“Are you going to help at that place all the winter?” he inquired.
