Here it's all grim fighting.

Farther on they've given it up." And still they went on up the curving street, with its few pinched shops and its unending narrow grimness.
At the corner of a by-street Martin said: "We'll go down here." Thyme stood still, wrinkling her nose.

Martin eyed her.
"Don't funk!" "I'm not funking, Martin, only I can't stand the smells." "You'll have to get used to them." "Yes, I know; but--but I forgot my eucalyptus." The young man took out a handkerchief which had not yet been unfolded.
"Here, take mine." "They do make me feel so--it's a shame to take yours," and she took the handkerchief.
"That's all right," said Martin.

"Come on!" The houses of this narrow street, inside and out, seemed full of women.
Many of them had babies in their arms; they were working or looking out of windows or gossiping on doorsteps.

And all stopped to stare as the young couple passed.