But, by Jove! it’s going to make our loving a fiercely abstract thing. Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. ‘No mistaking you this time. “Yes. Let us be friends—as near and close as friends can be. Her life hangs upon a thread, and this may snap it. Martin came to the door, looking radiant and relieved. He held her hand in his, cupped together like a pair of shells for the rest of the hour. My work will be all sufficient. Then a servant girl brought in a telegram.
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