It was the day I borrowed a pencil; the day we first spoke to one another. Believe me, the bitterness of it has almost departed, crushed out of me together with much of the weariness and sorrow I brought with me here by the nameless glory of these lonely months. You creep around in a nun’s habit, peering into a private ballroom. The sunshine broke across each shoulder, one lance striking the yellow face of a Chinaman, queueless and dressed in European clothes, the other lance falling squarely upon the face of the man he had journeyed thirteen thousand miles to find. She walked with long swinging steps, scorning the thought of buses or the tube. “Don’t we all rather humbug about the coarseness? All we women, I mean,” said she. She visualized him as in a policeman’s uniform and quite impassive. ” “I thought you would find that out.
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