e away into the mellowing sunshine. He walked
westward, till he found himself on the Embankment by Albert Bridge;
here, after hesitating awhile, he took the turn into Oakley Street. He
had no thought of calling to see Miss Elvan; upon that he could not
venture; but he thought it barely possible that he might meet with her
in this neighbourhood, and such a meeting would have been pleasant.
Disappointed, he crossed the river, lingered a little in Battersea
Park, came back again over the bridge,--and, with a sudden leap of the
heart, which all but made his whole body spring forward, saw a slim
figure in grey moving by the parapet in front of Cheyne Walk.

They shook hands without speaking, very much as though they had met by
appointment.

"Oh, these sunsets!" were Rosamund's first words, when they had moved a
few steps together.

"They used to be my delight when I lived there," Will replied, pointing
eastward.

"Show me just where it was, will you?"

They turned, and went as far as Chelsea Bridge, where Warburton pointed
out the windows of his old flat.

"You were very happy there?" said Rosamund.

"Happy--? Not unhappy, at all events. Yes, in a way I enjoyed my life;
chiefly because I didn't think much about it."

"Look at the sky, now."

The sun had gone down in the duskily golden haze that hung above the
river's vague horizon. Above, on the violet sky, stood range over range
of pleated clouds, their hue the deepest rose, shading to purple in the
folds.

"In other countries," continued the soft, murmuring voice, "I have
never seen a sky like that. I love this London!"

"As I used to," said Warburton, "and shall again."

They loitered back past Chelsea Hospital, exchanging brief,
insignificant sentences. Then for many minutes neither spoke, and in
this silence they came to the foot of Oakley Street, where again they
stood gazing at the sky. Scarcely changed in form, the western clouds
had shed their splendour, and were now so coldly pale that one would
have imagined them stricken with moonlight; but no moon had risen, only
in a clear space of yet blue sky glistened the evening star.

"I must go in," said Rosamund abruptly, as though starting from a dream.

CHAPTER 34

She was gone, and Warburton stood biting his lips. Had he shaken hands
with her? Had he said good-night? He could not be sure. Nothing was
present to him but a sense of gawkish confusion, following on a wild
impulse which both ash