Oliver stirred the fire. Drawing her chair close to it, she sat there, for a little time, without speaking; but at length she raised her head, and looked round.
“I don’t know what comes over me sometimes,” said she, affecting to busy herself in arranging her dress; “it’s this damp dirty room, I think. Now, Nolly, dear, are you ready?”
“Am I to go with you?” asked Oliver.
“Yes. I have come from Bill,” replied the girl. “You are to go with me.”
“What for?” asked Oliver, recoiling.
“What for?” echoed the girl, raising her eyes, and averting them again, the moment they encountered the boy’s face. “Oh! For no harm.”
“I don’t believe it,” said Oliver: who had watched her closely.
“Have it your own way,” rejoined the girl, affecting to laugh. “For no good, then.”
Oliver could see that he had some power over the girl’s better feelings, and, for an instant, thought of appealing to her compassion for his helpless state. But, then, the thought darted across his mind that it was barely eleven o’clock; and that many people were still in the streets: of whom surely some might be found to give credence to his tale. As the reflection occured to him, he stepped forward: and said, somewhat hastily, that he was ready.
Neither his brief consideration, nor its purport, was lost on his companion. She eyed him narrowly, while he spoke; and cast upon him a look of intelligence which sufficiently showed that she guessed what had been passing in his thoughts.