“These are her rooms,” she said. She had a compartment to herself in the train from London to Morningside Park, and she sat with both her feet on the seat in an attitude that would certainly have distressed her mother to see, and horrified her grandmother beyond measure; she sat with her knees up to her chin and her hands clasped before them, and she was so lost in thought that she discovered with a start, from a lettered lamp, that she was at Morningside Park, and thought she was moving out of the station, whereas she was only moving in. The tree-lined streets were silent except for the sporadic revving of glass packs down Church Avenue. The joy of being loved thrilled her as nothing before had ever done, a curious abstract joy which had nothing in it at that moment of regret or even pity. Blue haze had settled beyond the black silhouettes of trees, graduating to the deep violet that began the night sky. He looked melancholy enough, it is true. "He's dead," exclaimed Austin. ’ His face changed, all the humour and tenderness leaving it in an instant.
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