Parkson stared at his “diggings.” “There’s Heaps I want to talk about. I’ll come part of the way at any rate to Battersea. Your Miss Heydinger, I was saying ...”
From that point onwards he made casual appeals to a supposed confidence between Lewisham and Miss Heydinger, each of which increased Lewisham’s exasperation. “It will not be long before you also, Lewisham, will begin to know the infinite purification of a Pure Love....” Then suddenly, with a vague idea of suppressing Parkson’s unendurable chatter, as one motive at least, Lewisham rushed into the confidential.
“I know,” he said. “You talk to me as though ... I’ve marked out my destiny these three years.” His confidential impulse died as he relieved it.
“You don’t mean to say Miss Heydinger—?” asked Parkson.
“Oh, damn Miss Heydinger!” said Lewisham, and suddenly, abruptly, uncivilly, he turned away from Parkson at the end of the street and began walking away southward, leaving Parkson in mid-sentence at the crossing.
Parkson stared in astonishment at his receding back and ran after him to ask for the grounds of this sudden offence. Lewisham walked on for a space with Parkson trotting by his side. Then suddenly he turned. His face was quite white and he spoke in a tired voice.
“Parkson,” he said, “you are a fool!... You have the face of a sheep, the manners of a buffalo, and the conversation of a bore, Pewrity indeed!... The girl whose photograph you showed me has eyes that don’t match. She looks as loathsome as one would naturally expect.... I’m not joking now.... Go away!”
After that Lewisham went on his southward way alone. He did not go straight to his room in Chelsea, but spent some hours in a street in Battersea, pacing to and fro in front of a possible house. His passion changed from savageness to a tender longing. If only he could see her to-night! He knew his own mind now. To-morrow he was resolved he would fling work to the dogs and meet her. The things Dunkerley had said had filled his mind with wonderful novel thoughts. If only he could see her now!
His wish was granted. At the corner of the street two figures passed him; one of these, a tall man in glasses and a quasi-clerical hat, with coat collar turned up under his grey side-whiskers, he recognised as Chaffery; the other he knew only too well. The pair passed him without seeing him, but for an instant the lamplight fell upon her face and showed it white and tired.
Lewisham stopped dead at the corner, staring in blank astonishment after these two figures as they receded into the haze under the lights. He was dumfounded. A clock struck slowly. It was midnight. Presently down the road came the slamming of their door.