velation.

"But I'm in love with you!" he exclaimed, with something like dismay. He
leant against the window-sill, looking over the city as she had looked.
Everything had become miraculously different and completely distinct.
His feelings were justified and needed no further explanation. But he
must impart them to some one, because his discovery was so important
that it concerned other people too. Shutting the book of Greek
photographs, and hiding his relics, he ran downstairs, snatched his
coat, and passed out of doors.

The lamps were being lit, but the streets were dark enough and empty
enough to let him walk his fastest, and to talk aloud as he walked. He
had no doubt where he was going. He was going to find Mary Datchet. The
desire to share what he felt, with some one who understood it, was so
imperious that he did not question it. He was soon in her street. He
ran up the stairs leading to her flat two steps at a time, and it never
crossed his mind that she might not be at home. As he rang her bell, he
seemed to himself to be announcing the presence of something wonderful
that was separate from himself, and gave him power and authority over
all other people. Mary came to the door after a moment's pause. He was
perfectly silent, and in the dusk his face looked completely white. He
followed her into her room.

"Do you know each other?" she said, to his extreme surprise, for he had
counted on finding her alone. A young man rose, and said that he knew
Ralph by sight.

"We were just going through some papers," said Mary. "Mr. Basnett has
to help me, because I don't know much about my work yet. It's the new
society," she explained. "I'm the secretary. I'm no longer at Russell
Square."

The voice in which she gave this information was so constrained as to
sound almost harsh.

"What are your aims?" said Ralph. He looked neither at Mary nor at Mr.
Basnett. Mr. Basnett thought he had seldom seen a more disagreeable
or formidable man than this friend of Mary's, this sarcastic-looking,
white-faced Mr. Denham, who seemed to demand, as if by right, an account
of their proposals, and to criticize them before he had heard them.
Nevertheless, he explained his projects as clearly as he could, and knew
that he wished Mr. Denham to think well of them.

"I see," said Ralph, when he had done. "D'you know, Mary," he suddenly
remarked, "I believe I'm in for a cold. Have you any quinine?" The
look which he cast at her frightened h