“Is it Miss Henderson?” he said nervously as she passed.
“Yes” said Miriam stopping dead, flooded with sadness.
“I have been hoping to see you for the last ten days” he said hurriedly and as if afraid of being overheard. In the impenetrable gloom darker than the darkness his voice was a thread of comfort.
“Oh yes.”
“Could you come and see me?”
“Oh yes of course.”
“If you will give me your number in Wimpole Street I will send you a note.”
11
“My dear!”
The tall figure, radiant, lit from head to foot, “as the light on a falling wave” ... “as the light on a falling wave.” ...