He sat down on the sill of the open window, folded his arms, and stared straight before him for a long time over the wilderness of tiles and chimney-pots into a sky that was blue and empty. It was rigged up for the occasion as it has been many a time before. She followed Oxford Street into Holborn, and then she inquired for Chancery Lane. The idea that he held in his arms the girl whom he had once so passionately loved, and for whom he still retained an ardent but hopeless attachment, almost overcame him. ‘And me?’ ‘Oh, you’re mad because you wish to blow off my head. He kissed her cheek. If only there had not been this single torturing thought—a mere pin-prick, but still curiously persistent.
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