I'm too proud for that sort of thing.Oh,what a rotten world this is!"she cried passionately,and burst into a storm of weeping.It was the most natural action of her life.
Jonah sat and stared at the lights of the Quay,dismayed by her tears but relieved in his mind.He had spoken at last;already he was framing fresh arguments to persuade her.Presently she dried her eyes and looked at him with the ghost of a smile.Then began a discussion which threatened to last all night,neither of them giving way from the position they had taken up,neither yielding an inch to the other's entreaties.Suddenly Jonah looked at his watch with an exclamation.It was nearly ten.In the heat of argument they had forgotten the lapse of time.They scrambled over boulders and through the lantana bushes down to the path,and just caught the boat.
When they reached the Quay they were surprised again by the splendour of the night.The moon,just past the full,flooded the streets with white light that left deep shadows between the buildings like a charcoal drawing.
They took a tram to the Haymarket,as they were afraid of being recognized in the Waterloo cars,and reached Regent Street after eleven.The hotels had disgorged their customers,who were talking loudly in groups on the footpath or lurching homeward with uneven steps.Jonah was explaining that he must see Clara all the way home on account of the lateness of the hour,when he was astonished to hear someone sobbing in the monumental mason's yard as if his heart would break.He turned and looked.The headstones and white marble crosses stood in rows with a faint resemblance to a graveyard;the moonlight fell clear and cold on these monuments awaiting a purchaser.Some,already sold,were lettered in black with the name of the departed.Jonah and Clara stared,puzzled by the noise,when they saw an old man in the rear of the yard in a top hat and a frock coat,clinging to a marble cross.He lurched round,and instantly Clara,with a gasp of amazement and shame,recognized her father.