“I sat for a long time under the trees, gazing immovably at the ground between my feet, and then I got up mechanically, without any plan in my head, and wandered as mechanically home towards my club. My club burst incongruously enough on my dreams of a beautiful gulf; that, again, was part of the irony on this most cruel of days. But I had nowhere else to go to.
“I began to write to MacPherson’s solicitors to inform them of their client’s death; the new life was so empty that I clung for as long as I was able to the old. As I wrote, the hall-boy came and stood at my elbow.
“‘Please, sir, there’s a young woman asking to see you.’
“A young woman? Could it be Belle? so equipped for the day’s battle as to pass for young?
“‘What’s her name? what does she want?’
“‘She won’t say, sir; she wants to see you.’
“I went out. Ruth was standing by the hall-door, plainly dressed in a dark coat and skirt, and a sailor hat, and holding a couple of faded red roses in her hand.
“I looked at her incredulously, and all the world stood still.
“She began, shyly and hurriedly,—
“‘Oh, I don’t want to bother you if you are busy....’