But the streets were nearly deserted as they hurried, Ellen and Ewan, from the Cowgate’s depth across the Mile and the Corn Market, the cold air blowing on Ellen’s face, Ewan looked down and saw her face a winter flower and wanted to sing, wanted to stop and say idiot things, to stop and go mad and strip Ellen naked, the secret small cat, slow piece on piece, and kiss every piece a million times over, and hit her—hard, till it hurt, and kiss the hurts till cure and kisses and pain were one—mad, oh, mad as hell tonight!

And she tripped beside him, sweet, slim and demure in act and look, dark cool kitten, and inside was frightened at the wildness there. So up Windmill Steps through the sheet of the snow, a corner with a mirror, here the snow failed, Ewan halted panting while she made to run on.

But he caught her arm and drew her down, she wriggled a little, the light on her face, startled, eyes like stars and yet drowsy, he drew her close to him and they suddenly gasped, with wonder and fear and as though their hearts broke and were shattered in the kiss, sweet, terrible, as their lips met at last.

Thin and lank, with a holy mouth and shifty eyes, she sat in the kitchen and had tea with Chris: Eh me, and you think she won’t last the night? And Chris said, No, I don’t think she will. Another cup of tea, Miss Urquhart? and Ma’s niece Izey sniffled through her nose, godly, and pecked at her eyes with a hanky: Have you had the minister up to see her?

Chris said No, she hadn’t, Ma had told her in a wakeful moment that day she didn’t want any of them sossing about, if St Peter needed a prayer for a passport he’d be bilked of another boarder, fegs. And Niece Izey held up her hands in horror, But YOU don’t believe that, do you, now? and Chris said more or less, she didn’t care, and Miss Urquhart drew in her shoggly mouth, prim: I’m afraid we wouldn’t get on very well. I believe in God, I’ve no time for heathen. And Chris said No? That must be a comfort. Try a cake, Miss Urquhart, and sat watching her eat, she herself couldn’t, over tired with running up and down the stairs and seeing to the lodgers’ meals as they came, they needed something special on New Year’s Eve, and letting Meg go early though she’d offered to stay…. And suddenly the lank Izey said I suppose you know that I heir it all?—the share in the house and the furniture?

Chris said she’d heard that and knew it to be true, whatever intention Ma had once had of altering her will to surprise Niece Izey she’d never had the time to carry it out. And Miss Urquhart pursed up her holy-like mouth and said she would realize her share, she’d no fancy for the keeping of lodgers herself, not a decent work, she’d always thought. Maybe Mrs Colquohoun would buy her out?