of the sky had been drawn apart, and the heaven lay bare, as
it does in the country. The air was softly cool, so that people who
had been sitting talking in a crowd found it pleasant to walk a little
before deciding to stop an omnibus or encounter light again in an
underground railway. Sandys, who was a barrister with a philosophic
tendency, took out his pipe, lit it, murmured "hum" and "ha," and was
silent. The couple in front of them kept their distance accurately, and
appeared, so far as Denham could judge by the way they turned towards
each other, to be talking very constantly. He observed that when a
pedestrian going the opposite way forced them to part they came together
again directly afterwards. Without intending to watch them he never
quite lost sight of the yellow scarf twisted round Katharine's head, or
the light overcoat which made Rodney look fashionable among the crowd.
At the Strand he supposed that they would separate, but instead they
crossed the road, and took their way down one of the narrow passages
which lead through ancient courts to the river. Among the crowd of
people in the big thoroughfares Rodney seemed merely to be lending
Katharine his escort, but now, when passengers were rare and the
footsteps of the couple were distinctly heard in the silence, Denham
could not help picturing to himself some change in their conversation.
The effect of the light and shadow, which seemed to increase their
height, was to make them mysterious and significant, so that Denham
had no feeling of irritation with Katharine, but rather a half-dreamy
acquiescence in the course of the world. Yes, she did very well to dream
about--but Sandys had suddenly begun to talk. He was a solitary man who
had made his friends at college and always addressed them as if they
were still undergraduates arguing in his room, though many months or
even years had passed in some cases between the last sentence and the
present one. The method was a little singular, but very restful, for
it seemed to ignore completely all accidents of human life, and to span
very deep abysses with a few simple words.

On this occasion he began, while they waited for a minute on the edge of
the Strand:

"I hear that Bennett has given up his theory of truth."

Denham returned a suitable answer, and he proceeded to explain how
this decision had been arrived at, and what changes it involved in the
philosophy which they both accepted. Meanwhile Katharine and Ro