"I must find Sylvia," he repeated, as though that were an answer to every conceivable question.
"If you're sane," I said, "you can appreciate the insanity of walking from London to Bath in search of a girl who may be in Scotland or on the Gold Coast for all you know. She's as likely to be in the Mile End Road as on the Bath Road. Why not look there? It's nearer Adelphi Terrace, at all events."
He looked at me for a moment reproachfully, as though his last friend had failed him, then turned and plodded westward....
"God's truth!" I cried. "Where are you off to?"
"I must find Sylvia," he answered.
"But where? Where?"
"I don't know."
"Why this God-stricken road rather than another?"
"She came along here."
"How do you know?"