it is written of men,
lest they pay attention to cares that are not their own. The sun that
scorched his face fell on their backs, the breeze that cooled his back
blew on their cheeks. For the careless world, too, was on its way, along
the pavement of the universe, one of millions going to Chelsea, meeting
millions coming away....

"Mrs. Bellew at home?"

He went into a room fifteen feet square and perhaps ten high, with a
sulky canary in a small gilt cage, an upright piano with an open operatic
score, a sofa with piled-up cushions, and on it a woman with a flushed
and sullen face, whose elbows were resting on her knees, whose chin was
resting on her hand, whose gaze was fixed on nothing. It was a room of
that size, with all these things, but Gregory took into it with him some
thing that made it all seem different to Gregory. He sat down by the
window with his eyes care fully averted, and spoke in soft tones broken
by something that sounded like emotion. He began by telling her of his
woman with the morphia habit, and then he told her that he knew every
thing. When he had said this he looked out of the window, where builders
had left by inadvertence a narrow strip of sky. And thus he avoided
seeing the look on her face, contemptuous, impatient, as though she were
thinking: 'You are a good fellow, Gregory, but for Heaven's sake do see
things for once as they are! I have had enough of it.' And he avoided
seeing her stretch her arms out and spread the fingers, as an angry cat
will stretch and spread its toes. He told her that he did not want to
worry her, but that when she wanted him for anything she must send for
him--he was always there; and he looked at her feet, so that he did not
see her lip curl. He told her that she would always be the same to him,
and he asked her to believe that. He did not see the smile which never
left her lips again while he was there--the smile he could not read,
because it was the smile of life, and of a woman that he did not
understand. But he did see on that sofa a beautiful creature for whom he
had longed for years, and so he went away, and left her standing at the
door with her teeth fastened on her lip: And since with him Gregory took
his eyes, he did not see her reseated on the sofa, just as she had been
before he came in, her elbows on her knees, her chin in her hand, her
moody eyes like those of a gambler staring into the distance....

In the streets of tall houses lead