His steps as he came along made a noise upon the pavement which frightened him. He thought confusedly of the steps stumbling along the street in the village when the public-house closed, and how the old people, if by chance they were up so late, would shake their heads. He seemed to hear the stumble, the little interval of dulled sound when those late passengers took the softer path along the garden wall; then the sudden access of noise, when they arrived, with a swerve and lurch, upon the bit of pavement. Good heavens! Might people inside these houses hear his steps and think the same? for it seemed to him that he, too, stumbled and swerved and scraped along the pavement. This, however, was but a momentary chill; he said to himself what did it matter? he was all right; there was nothing to be said against him; and, with an attempt to call up the elation of mind which had nearly worn out, and a step which was jaunty in attempted carelessness, he went on. The jauntiness, however, was a little marred by the necessity of examining the houses to see which was his own. They were so horribly like each other! John did not know how to make sure which was the right one in the imperfect shining of the few lamps, and under the shadow of the hospital. He went past the lighted window, and then returned again. Some one, he thought, was looking out at the edge of the blind; but then no one could be looking out for him.
A door opened softly while he was trying to find something by which he could recognise the house, and then a voice, more soft still, whispered,
He turned back with a thrill of mingled alarm and relief, and at the same time a quick start of contradiction.
‘I’m John--John May,’ he replied, with a sudden confused impulse. ‘Is this the house?’
‘Oh, come in. Oh, come in! You don’t know me? I’m Susie. Oh, John, John, where have you been? I have been waiting for you for hours. Oh, John!’ She had pulled him into the little parlour where one candle was burning, and looked at him strangely, with a look of terror and distress. She threw her arms round his neck, then drew back without kissing him, and cried again, in a tone of reproach, ‘Oh, John, John!’
‘What is it!’ he said. ‘Are you Susie? What is it? I went out for a walk. I did not know anyone was coming to-night.’