They walked home to Bloomsbury, where they had easily obtained rooms, for the sudden withdrawal of Germans and Austrians had left Bloomsbury in a state of vacancy. As they went down Haverstock Hill towards Chalk Farm, an old man lurched against them. "All the young chaps," he mumbled thickly. "Thash wot sticks in my gizzard! All the young chaps! Gawblimey, why don't they tyke the ole ones!..." "Steady on," Gilbert exclaimed, catching his arm and holding him up. "You'll fall, if you're not careful!" "Don't marrer a damn wherrer I do or not!" He reeled a little, and Gilbert caught hold of him again. "I woul'n be a young chap," he muttered, "not for ... not for nothink. You ... you're a young chap, ain't you? Yesh you are! You needn't tell me you ain't! I can see as wellsh anythink! You're a young chap ri' enough. Well ... well, Gawd, 'elp you, young feller! Thash all I got to sy ... subjec!' Goo-ni', gen'lemen!" He staggered off the pavement, and went half way across the deserted street. Then he turned and looked at them for a few mo "Drunk," said Gilbert. Henry did not reply, and they walked on through Chalk Farm, through Camden Town, into the tangle of mean streets by Euston, and then across the Euston Road to Bloomsbury. They did not speak to each other until they were almost at their destination. "It's awfully quiet," said Henry, turning and looking about him. "I don't see any one," Gilbert answered, "except that old fellow ahead of us!..." "No!" They walked on, and when they came up to the old man, who walked slowly, and heavily in the same direction, they called "Good-night!" to him. He looked round at them, an old, tired, bewildered man, and he made a gesture with his hands, a gesture of despair. "Ach, mein freund!" he said brokenly, and again he made the suppliant motion with his hands. "Poor old devil!" Gilbert muttered almost to himself. |