Mr. Newthorpe
went out into the rain, and at the last moment shook hands with him
heartily. Annabel stood at the window and smiled farewell.

The wheels splashed along the road; rain fell in torrents. Egremont
presently looked back from the carriage window. The house was already
out of view, and the summits of the circling hills were wreathed with
cloud.

CHAPTER III

A CORNER OF LAMBETH

A working man, one Gilbert Grail, was spending an hour of his Saturday
afternoon in Westminster Abbey. At five o'clock the sky still pulsed
with heat; black shadows were sharp edged upon the yellow pavement.
Between the bridges of Westminster and Lambeth the river was a
colourless gleam; but in the Sanctuary evening had fallen. Above the
cool twilight of the aisles floated a golden mist; and the echo of a
footfall hushed itself among the tombs.

He was a man past youth, but of less than middle age, with meagre limbs
and shoulders, a little bent. His clothing was rough but decent; his
small and white hands gave evidence of occupation which was not rudely
laborious. He had a large head, thickly covered with dark hair, which,
with his moustache and beard, heightened the wanness of his complexion.
A massive forehead, deep-set eyes, thin, straight nose, large lips
constantly drawn inwards, made a physiognomy impressive rather than
pleasing. The cast of thought was upon it; of thought eager and
self-tormenting; the mark of a spirit ever straining after something
unattainable. At moments when he found satisfaction in reading the
legend on some monument his eyes grew placid and his beetling brows
smoothed themselves; but the haunter within would not be forgotten,
and, as if at a sudden recollection, he dropped his eyes in a troubled
way, and moved onwards brooding. In those brief intervals of peace his
countenance expressed an absorbing reverence, a profound humility. The
same was evident in his bearing; he walked as softly as possible and
avoided treading upon a sculptured name.

When he passed out into the sunny street, he stood for an instant with
a hand veiling his eyes, as if the sudden light were too strong. Then
he looked hither and thither with absent gaze, and at length bent his
steps in the direction of Westminster Bridge. On the south side of the
river he descended the stairs to the Albert Embankment and walked along
by St. Thomas's Hospital.

Presently he overtook a man who was reading as he walked, a second book