His own heart was too full of melancholy foreboding. We must wave our hands at the blue hills far away there and go back to London and work. It was noon when the caravan reached the tower of the water-clock. It ought not to be much. She went to her room and changed the loose morning gown in which she had lunched for a dark walking dress. Against the sinister, the threatening, monstrous inhumanity of the limitless city, there was nothing now but this supreme, ugly fact of a pursuit— the pursuit of the undesired, persistent male. And she would have rushed to him, if she had not been forcibly withheld by her son.
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