He put down his hat and umbrella, rested his hands on his hips, and regarded Ann Veronica firmly. Ruth could not be told now. At night she would turn it in her fingers like a rosary bead. Sometimes I tremble, Anna, to think how near I came to passing through life without a single glimpse, a moment’s revelation of this greatest and most awful of mysteries, the mystery of primaeval nature. As she did so the preparation-room door opened behind her. He kept his keen eyes steadily fixed on Thames, as if awaiting to be addressed. It was as if Grace-church Street, with all its shops, its magazines, and ceaseless throng of passengers, were stretched from the Middlesex to the Surrey shore.
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