Perhaps Milvain.' 'I think I shall take Willie to mother's.

I shall be back before eight.' 'Amy, don't say anything about the books.' 'No, no.' 'I suppose they always ask you when we think of removing over the way ?' He pointed in a direction that suggested Marylebone Workhouse.

Amy tried to laugh, but a woman with a child in her arms has no keen relish for such jokes.
'I don't talk to them about our affairs,' she said.
'That's best.' She left home about three o'clock, the servant going with her to carry the child.
At five a familiar knock sounded through the flat; it was a heavy rap followed by half-a-dozen light ones, like a reverberating echo, the last stroke scarcely audible.

Reardon laid down his book, but kept his pipe in his mouth, and went to the door.

A tall, thin man stood there, with a slouch hat and long grey overcoat.