You heard her. “Go it, miss!” cried one. He wiped the sweat from his chin and forehead. She turned on the lad with her, who was visibly relieved. “What night will you dine and go to the theatre with me?—and how about Hurlingham on Saturday?” Anna shook her head. Wood, who had been absent on business during the greater part of the day, returned (perhaps not altogether undesignedly) at an earlier hour than was expected, to his dwelling in Wych Street, Drury Lane; and was about to enter his workshop, when, not hearing any sound of labour issue from within, he began to suspect that an apprentice, of whose habits of industry he entertained some doubt, was neglecting his employment. As a rule their comings and goings were discussed with perfect confidence, but on this occasion they both felt that there was intent in her silence as to her destination. The prostitute’s attack was predictable, typical.
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