ntered the
station, and journeyed townwards. It was an odd incident, by Monica
unperceived, that when she was taking her ticket there stood close by
her a man, seemingly a mechanic, who had also stood within hearing when
she booked at Herne Hill. This same man, though he had not travelled in
the compartment with her, followed her when she alighted at Bayswater.
She did not once observe him.

Instead of writing, she had resolved to see Bevis again--if it were
possible. Perhaps he would not be at the flat; yet his wish might
suggest the bare hope of her coming to-day. The risk of meeting Barfoot
probably need not be considered, for he had told her that he was
travelling to-day into Cumberland, and for so long a journey he would
be sure to set forth in the morning. At worst she would suffer a
disappointment. Indulgence of her fervid feelings had made her as eager
to see Bevis as she was yesterday. Words of tenderness rushed to her
lips for utterance. When she reached the building all but delirium
possessed her.

She had hurried up to the first landing, when a footstep behind drew
her attention. It was a man in mechanic's dress, coming up with head
bent, doubtless for some task or other in one of the flats. Perhaps he
was going to Bevis's. She went forward more slowly, and on the next
landing allowed the man to pass her. Yes, more likely than not he was
engaged in packing her lover's furniture. She stood still. At that
moment a door closed above, and another step, lighter and quicker, that
of a woman, came downstairs. As far as her ear could judge, this person
might have left Bevis's flat. A conflict of emotions excited her to
panic. She was afraid either to advance or to retreat, and in equal
dread of standing without purpose. She stepped up to the nearest door,
and gave a summons with the knocker.

This door was Barfoot's. She knew that; in the first instant of fear
occasioned by the workman's approach, she had glanced at the door and
reminded herself that here Mr. Barfoot dwelt, immediately beneath
Bevis. But for the wild alarm due to her conscience-stricken state she
could not have risked the possibility of the tenant being still at
home; and yet it seemed to her that she was doing the only thing
possible under the circumstances. For this woman whom she heard just
above might perchance be one of Bevis's sisters, returned to London for
some purpose or other, and in that case she preferred being seen at
Barfoot's door