This is simply a chapter of coincidences. I said, that day at Surbiton, ‘There’s many good things in life, but there’s only one best, and that’s the wild-haired girl who’s pulling away at that oar. Then she went back and mixed up the sheets in a search for particular passages. Pitt endeavoured to dissuade him from attending in person, representing the great risk he would incur from the mob, which was certain to be assembled. The room was papered with green, large-patterned paper that was at worst a trifle dingy, and the arm-chair and the seats of the other chairs were covered with the unusual brightness of a large-patterned chintz, which also supplied the window-curtain. Yet before she turned once more to resume her flight she schooled herself with an effort to look where it had happened. ‘Stand where you are, or I shoot!’ Like lightning, thoughts zipped through her mind.
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