I—I don’t understand,” the man faltered wearily. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. A murmur ran through the assemblage, by several of whom Jack was recognised. She could see over a waist high stone wall into the miniature courtyard, complete with benches only a small child could sit upon, one which had been broken in half, its two pieces left unjoined on the sandy ground. She goes out and comes home. “I’m still new to them.
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