he opera, to supper at an
oyster-shop, under Alan's pilotage, and then set out to walk back to
Hampstead, timing themselves to catch the dawn. They had not gone twenty
steps up Southampton Row before Alan and Sheila were forty steps in
front. A fellow-feeling had made Derek and Nedda stand to watch an old
man who walked, tortuous, extremely happy, bidding them all come. And
when they moved on, it was very slowly, just keeping sight of the others
across the lumbered dimness of Covent Garden, where tarpaulin-covered
carts and barrows seemed to slumber under the blink of lamps and
watchmen's lanterns. Across Long Acre they came into a street where there
was not a soul save the two others, a long way ahead. Walking with his
arm tightly laced with hers, touching her all down one side, Derek felt
that it would be glorious to be attacked by night-birds in this dark,
lonely street, to have a splendid fight and drive them off, showing
himself to Nedda for a man, and her protector. But nothing save one
black cat came near, and that ran for its life. He bent round and looked
under the blue veil-thing that wrapped Nedda's head. Her face seemed
mysteriously lovely, and her eyes, lifted so quickly, mysteriously true.
She said:

"Derek, I feel like a hill with the sun on it!"

"I feel like that yellow cloud with the wind in it."

"I feel like an apple-tree coming into blossom."

"I feel like a giant."

"I feel like a song."

"I feel I could sing you."

"On a river, floating along."

"A wide one, with great plains on each side, and beasts coming down to
drink, and either the sun or a yellow moon shining, and some one singing,
too, far off."

"The Red Sarafan."

"Let's run!"

From that yellow cloud sailing in moonlight a spurt of rain had driven
into their faces, and they ran as fast as their blood was flowing, and
the raindrops coming down, jumping half the width of the little dark
streets, clutching each other's arms. And peering round into her face,
so sweet and breathless, into her eyes, so dark and dancing, he felt he
could run all night if he had her there to run beside him through the
dark. Into another street they dashed, and again another, till she
stopped, panting.

"Where are we now?"

Neither knew. A policeman put them right for Portland Place. Half past
one! And it would be dawn soon after three! They walked soberly again
now into the outer circle of Regent's Park; talked soberly, too,
discus