fell back from the
attempt. Was she the most wondrous? Or was she commonplace? Was she
deceiving him? Or did he alone possess the true insight? ... Useless!
He was baffled. Far from piercing her soul, he could scarcely even see
her at all; that is, with intelligence. And it was always so when he
was with her: he was in a dream, a vapour; he had no helm, his faculties
were not under control. She robbed him of judgement.

And then the clear tones of her voice fell on the listening shop: "Good
evening, Mr Clayhanger. What a night, isn't it? I hope I'm not too
late."

Firm, business-like syllables... And she straightened her shoulders.
He suffered. He was not happy. Whatever his feelings, he was not happy
in that instant. He was not happy because he was wrung between hope and
fear, alike divine. But he would not have exchanged his sensations for
the extremest felicity of any other person.

They shook hands. He suggested that she should remove her mackintosh.
She consented. He had no idea that the effect of the removal of the
mackintosh would be so startling as it was. She stood intimately
revealed in her frock. The mackintosh was formal and defensive; the
frock was intimate and acquiescent.

Darius blundered out of the cubicle and Edwin had a dreadful moment
introducing her to Darius and explaining their purpose. Why had he not
prepared the ground in advance? His pusillanimous cowardice again!
However, the directing finger of God sent a customer into the shop, and
Edwin escaped with his Hilda through the aperture in the counter.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

THREE.

The rickety building at the back of the premises, which was still the
main theatre of printing activities, was empty save for Big James, the
hour of seven being past. Big James was just beginning to roll his
apron round his waist, in preparation for departure. This happened to
be one of the habits of his advancing age. Up till a year or two
previously he would have taken off his apron and left it in the
workshop; but now he could not confide it to the workshop; he must carry
it about him until he reached home and a place of safety for it. When
he saw Edwin and a young lady appear in the doorway, he let the apron
fall over his knees again. As the day was only the second of the
industrial week, the apron was almost clean; and even the office towel,
which hung on a roller somewhat conspi