Half an hour later his wife crossed the street cautiously and went inside.

Doughy saw her and, having reached the maudlin stage, got up and lurched across the street, anxious to make it up and be friends.

Quite like the old times, thought Mrs Yabsley, when the street was as good as a play.

And suddenly remembering her dismal thoughts of an hour ago, she saw in a flash that she had grown old and that the street had remained young.

The past, on which her mind dwelt so fondly, was not wonderful.