flection of
flames that were flickering in a gap between two buildings. A huge
pile of debris encumbered the middle of the road. The vista was
closed by a barricade, beyond which was a pressing crowd. "Stand clear
there!" said a policeman to him roughly. "There's a wall going to
fall there any minute." He walked off, hurrying with relief from the
half-lit scene of busy, dim silhouettes. He could scarcely understand
it; and he was incapable of replying to the policeman. He wanted to be
alone and to ponder himself back into perfect composure. At the elbow
again he halted afresh. And as he stood figures in couples, bearing
stretchers, strode past him. The stretchers were covered with cloths
that hung down. Not the faintest sound came from beneath the cloths.

After a time he went on. The other exit of St. Martin's Street was
being barricaded as he reached it. A large crowd had assembled,
and there was a sound of talking like steady rain. He pushed grimly
through the crowd. He was set apart from the idle crowd. He would tell
the crowd nothing. In a minute he was going westwards on the left
side of Coventry Street again. The other side was as populous with
saunterers as ever. The violet glow-worms still burned in front of the
theatres and cinemas. Motor-buses swept by; taxis swept by; parcels
vans swept by, hooting. A newsman was selling papers at the corner.
Was he in a dream now? Or had he been in a dream in St. Martin's
Street? The vast capacity of the capital for digesting experience
seemed to endanger his reason. Save for the fragments of eager
conversation everywhere overheard, there was not a sign of disturbance
of the town's habitual life. And he was within four hundred yards
of the child's arm and of the spot where the procession of
stretcher-bearers had passed. One thought gradually gained ascendancy
in his mind: "I am saved!" It became exultant: "I might have been
blown to bits, but I am saved!" Despite the world's anguish and the
besetting imminence of danger, life and the city which he inhabited
had never seemed so enchanting, so lovely, as they did then. He
hurried towards Cork Street, hopeful.

Chapter 31

"ROMANCE"

At two periods of the day Marthe, with great effort and for
professional purposes, achieved some degree of personal tidiness.
The first period began at about four o'clock in the afternoon. By six
o'clock or six-thirty she had slipped back into the sloven. The second
period began at a