“I want to go to bed,” she said. “Will you please tell me the address of my hotel?”
“I’ll see you home,” he said. “Richard is set now; he will stay here for hours.”
It had stopped raining, and they walked. The streets gleamed, and they turned into a great open place filled with trees and people sauntering under them. Men in groups were talking and laughing, pretty girls and painted women flashed their golden teeth as they passed by.
“How beautiful a town is,” Anne said, almost unconscious that she was speaking aloud. “But I shall never be at home in one. The stones of the streets frighten me. I love the garden where:
Stumbling on melons as I pass
Insnared with flowers, I fall on grass,
Annihilating all that’s made
To a green thought in a green shade.”
She paused for a moment, stumbled with sleepiness and took Grandison’s arm.
“The crowd here is so thick,” she continued. “The faces search one’s face, the eyes meet one’s eyes, yet they all seem to be looking for someone they can never find.”