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.
When he had got over his shock Bob felt surprised, and expressed the feeling in a--'Well, what have _you_ got to say for yourself ?' 'You jumped as if I'd stuck a pin in you,' replied Clem.

'Did you think it was a copper ?' Bob looked at her with a surly smile.

Though no one could have mistaken the class she belonged to, Clem was dressed in a way which made her companionship with Bob in his workman's clothing somewhat incongruous; she wore a heavily trimmed brown hat, a long velveteen jacket, and carried a little bag of imitation fur.
'Why ain't you at work ?' she added.