He followed her up
the street, and into the bar. She handed the jug across the counter, and
while the barman filled it searched in her pocket for the money. She had
brought none with her. William promptly produced sixpence. Esther answered
him with a quick, angry glance, and addressing the barman, she said, "I'll
pay you to-morrow; that'll do, I suppose? 41 Avondale Road."
"That will be all right, but what am I to do with this sixpence?"
"I know nothing about that," Esther said, picking up her skirt; "I'll pay
you for what I have had."
Holding the sixpence in his short, thick, and wet fingers, the barman
looked at William. William smiled, and said, "Well, they do run sulky
sometimes."
He caught at the leather strap and pulled the door open for her, and as
she passed out she became aware that William still admired her. It was
really too bad, and she was conscious of injustice. Having destroyed her
life, this man had passed out of sight and knowledge, but only to reappear
when a vista leading to a new life seemed open before her.
"It was that temper of yours that did it; you wouldn't speak to me for a
fortnight. You haven't changed, I can see that," he said, watching
Esther's face, which did not alter until he spoke of how unhappy he had
been in his marriage. "A regular brute she was--we're no longer together,
you know; haven't been for the last three years; could not put up with
'er.
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