ost birds,
who were dashed senseless, by the gale, against the glass. He had a
strange sensation that he was both lighthouse and bird; he was steadfast
and brilliant; and at the same time he was whirled, with all other
things, senseless against the glass. He got up, left his tribute of
silver, and pressed on, with the wind against him. The image of the
lighthouse and the storm full of birds persisted, taking the place of
more definite thoughts, as he walked past the Houses of Parliament and
down Grosvenor Road, by the side of the river. In his state of physical
fatigue, details merged themselves in the vaster prospect, of which
the flying gloom and the intermittent lights of lamp-posts and private
houses were the outward token, but he never lost his sense of walking
in the direction of Katharine's house. He took it for granted that
something would then happen, and, as he walked on, his mind became more
and more full of pleasure and expectancy. Within a certain radius of her
house the streets came under the influence of her presence. Each
house had an individuality known to Ralph, because of the tremendous
individuality of the house in which she lived. For some yards before
reaching the Hilberys' door he walked in a trance of pleasure, but
when he reached it, and pushed the gate of the little garden open, he
hesitated. He did not know what to do next. There was no hurry, however,
for the outside of the house held pleasure enough to last him some time
longer. He crossed the road, and leant against the balustrade of the
Embankment, fixing his eyes upon the house.

Lights burnt in the three long windows of the drawing-room. The space
of the room behind became, in Ralph's vision, the center of the dark,
flying wilderness of the world; the justification for the welter of
confusion surrounding it; the steady light which cast its beams, like
those of a lighthouse, with searching composure over the trackless
waste. In this little sanctuary were gathered together several different
people, but their identity was dissolved in a general glory of something
that might, perhaps, be called civilization; at any rate, all
dryness, all safety, all that stood up above the surge and preserved
a consciousness of its own, was centered in the drawing-room of the
Hilberys. Its purpose was beneficent; and yet so far above his level as
to have something austere about it, a light that cast itself out and yet
kept itself aloof. Then he began, in his