A door slammed. ‘Lover’s tiff indeed. I know nothing about this affair, but some one has been burning documents. Nothing seemed to be amiss. I arrived here with something less than five pounds in my pocket. His face was a little flushed perhaps, and his small, brown eyes were bright. Blank it was, except for a gate near the bridgehead. They looked out over the city, grim and silent now, for it was long past midnight. And look, again, at the women one finds letting lodgings. He heard the panting of the donkey-engine, then the slithering of the anchor chains.
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