"I was coming to see you," he called out hastily, boyishly, not in the least measuring his effects. He jumped from the car, and said in a lower, more intimate tone: "I've only  this minute heard about Mr. Haim. I'm awfully² sorry. I thought I'd come along at once."

 

"How nice of you!" she replied, quite simply and naturally, with a smile. "Do come in."

 

The tension was eased.

 

She pulled at the gate, which creaked. He then saw plainly the whole of her figure. She was dressed in black, and wore what the newspaper advertisement called a 'matron's coat.' The decade had not passed by her and left no trace. She had been appointed to a share in the mysterious purpose. Her bust⁴, too, was ampler; only her face, rather pale like the face of Lois, was unaltered in its innocent contours. He felt that he was blushing. He had no instinctive⁵ jealousy⁶ nor resentment⁷; it did not appear strange to him that this woman in the matron's coat was the girl he had passionately⁸ kissed in that very house; and indeed the woman was not the girl—the connexion between the woman and the girl had snapped. Nevertheless, he was extremely self-conscious; but not she. And in his astonishment⁹ he wondered at the secretiveness of London. His house and hers were not more than half a mile apart, and yet in eleven years he had never set eyes on her house. Nearly always, on leaving his house, he would go up Elm Park Gardens and turn to the right. If he was not in the car he would never turn to the left. Occasionally he had flown past the end of the

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