She begins to pour her story out with the tears: a failed love affair, a violent lover, the need to leave his house quickly – so quickly that she has forgotten her purse. She sobs out her desire to return to her parents’ home in Surrey and reconcile with her aging father. She is a miserable and penitent daughter, now without the means to journey home.

There is something sweet about the old man. Perhaps he has a daughter of a similar age. A daughter who is a little wilful sometimes, but dearly loved. Or perhaps he is charmed by the story of a reformed sinner with its hint of promiscuity and corrupted innocence? It matters not to Ruby as he lays an arm around her shoulder and conducts her to the shelter of a shop doorway.

He must help her. He will certainly help her. Where are her parents? She names a large town in Surrey, accessible by train, confident that it is a place he will know, but populous enough that he won’t press her for more detail. She has been foolish in her decision to come to London. She bitterly regrets wasting her life and her money on such a callous and unfeeling young man. Oh, what will her parents think – and however will she return home?

The tears fall much faster now. He is soon reaching into his coat for bank notes, pressing them on her and insisting she takes enough for a train journey, some food and a little more for any emergency that might arise along the way.

‘Oh, you are too kind, dear sir,’ Ruby eventually takes the notes from him. ‘How shall I repay you? Please do give me your name and address, and my father will, I know, make sure to send you what I owe.’

He will hear none of this. Ruby is grateful to hear that he does, indeed, have a daughter, not much older than her, who once foolishly threatened to throw her life away on a wastrel but was persuaded against this. He is still so thankful that her virtue was not compromised that he is glad to restore Ruby to her parents, who must, he is sure, be worried sick.

Ruby is glad that he’s decent. He’s not after anything more. She’s not really in the mood for a lecher.

Instead, she sniffs back her tears, dries her eyes with a handkerchief and bids him farewell. She only quickens her pace once she’s turned the corner of the street. Then she makes two further swift turns, to take herself completely away from him.

He was a dear – and far too easy.

She grins. She has reason to be cocky, and she now has money in her handbag, hidden carefully in the secret pocket of the lining. She won’t hand it over to Annie. She stands still for a moment, wondering what she might do with it.