He hung round those broad waters from noon until three and realized that he had embarked upon a wild-goose chase. He shut his eyes and groped for the wall to steady himself, wondering if this bit of mummery would get over. It was Annabel who caught at the paper. ‘Odds were against it. “Forgive me,” he said. mm. The metrical irregularity is intentional, because I want, as it were, to put you apart: to change the lilt and the mood altogether when I speak of you. Imagine her, putting herself to all this delay and inconvenience for a young wastrel she did not know and who, the moment he got on his feet, would doubtless pass out of her life without so much as Thank you! And it was ten to one that she would not comprehend the ingratitude. The door into the passage offered itself with an irresistible invitation—the one alternative to a public, inexplicable passion of weeping. I do not choose the vicomte, for that would be foolish. “I suppose most people’s letters are queer. It is only the women matter.
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