to him, the thought of putting a protective arm about this little
fragile creature whose weakness gave him strength. He was not always
going to be a clerk in an office. He was going to write poetry, books,
plays. Already he had earned a little. He told her of his hopes, and
her great faith in him gave him new courage. One evening, finding a
seat where few people ever passed, he read to her. And she had
understood. All unconsciously she laughed in the right places, and
when his own voice trembled, and he found it difficult to continue for
the lump in his own throat, glancing at her he saw the tears were in
her eyes. It was the first time he had tasted sympathy.

And so spring grew to summer. And then one evening a great thing
happened. He could not make out at first what it was about her: some
little added fragrance that made itself oddly felt, while she herself
seemed to be conscious of increased dignity. It was not until he took
her hand to say good-bye that he discovered it. There was something
different about the feel of her, and, looking down at the little hand
that lay in his, he found the reason. She had on a pair of new gloves.
They were still of the same fawn colour, but so smooth and soft and
cool. They fitted closely without a wrinkle, displaying the slightness
and the gracefulness of the hands beneath. The twilight had almost
faded, and, save for the broad back of a disappearing policeman, they
had the Outer Circle to themselves; and, the sudden impulse coming to
him, he dropped on one knee, as they do in plays and story books and
sometimes elsewhere, and pressed the little fawn gloves to his lips in
a long, passionate kiss. The sound of approaching footsteps made him
rise hurriedly. She did not move, but her whole body was trembling, and
in her eyes was a look that was almost of fear. The approaching
footsteps came nearer, but a bend of the road still screened them.
Swiftly and in silence she put her arms about his neck and kissed him.
It was a strange, cold kiss, but almost fierce, and then without a word
she turned and walked away; and he watched her to the corner of Hanover
Gate, but she did not look back.

It was almost as if it had raised a barrier between them, that kiss.
The next evening she came to meet him with a smile as usual, but in her
eyes was still that odd suggestion of lurking fear; and when, seated
beside her, he put his hand on hers it seemed to him she shrank away
from hi