had dreamed
of being alone with him! And only that morning he had kissed her and
said, "Good-bye, treasure!" A dreadful little laugh got caught in her
throat, confused with a sob. Why--why had she a heart? Down there,
against the plinth of one of the lions, a young man leaned, with his arms
round a girl, pressing her to him. Gyp turned away from the sight and
resumed her miserable wandering. She went up Bury Street. No light; not
any sign of life! It did not matter; she could not have gone in, could
not stay still, must walk! She put up her veil to get more air, feeling
choked.

The trees of the Green Park, under which she was passing now, had still a
few leaves, and they gleamed in the lamplight copper-coloured as that
girl's hair. All sorts of torturing visions came to her. Those empty
chambers! She had seen one little minute of their intimacy. A hundred
kisses might have passed between them--a thousand words of love! And he
would lie to her. Already he had acted a lie! She had not deserved
that. And this sense of the injustice done her was the first relief she
felt--this definite emotion of a mind clouded by sheer misery. She had
not deserved that he should conceal things from her. She had not had one
thought or look for any man but him since that night down by the sea,
when he came to her across the garden in the moonlight--not one
thought--and never would! Poor relief enough! She was in Hyde Park now,
wandering along a pathway which cut diagonally across the grass. And
with more resolution, more purpose, she began searching her memory for
signs, proofs of WHEN he had changed to her. She could not find them.
He had not changed in his ways to her; not at all. Could one act love,
then? Act passion, or--horrible thought!--when he kissed her nowadays,
was he thinking of that girl?

She heard the rustling of leaves behind. A youth was following her along
the path, some ravening youth, whose ungoverned breathing had a kind of
pathos in it. Heaven! What irony! She was too miserable to care,
hardly even knew when, in the main path again, she was free from his
pursuit. Love! Why had it such possession of her, that a little
thing--yes, a little thing--only the sight of him with another, should
make her suffer so? She came out on the other side of the park. What
should she do? Crawl home, creep into her hole, and lie there stricken!
At Paddington she found a train just starting and got in. T