She had followed a bobbing white hat and gray jacket until she reached the Euston Road corner of Tottenham Court Road, and there, by the name on a bus and the cries of a conductor, she made a guess of her way. The weather harmonized with their feelings. But a girl is soiled not only by evil but by the proximity of evil, and a reputation for rashness may do her as serious an injury as really reprehensible conduct. He was safe, out of the beaten track, at last really comparable to the needle in the haystack. One of the shutters was a trifle damaged, letting in added light. Books; an inexplicable hunger to be satisfied. "Why do you laugh?" she asked gravely. Abruptly she desisted, recoiled, and turned and fled up-stairs. Kneebone's house, the young man hastened to a hotel in the neighbourhood of Covent Garden, where, having procured a horse, he shaped his course towards the west end of the town. Wood became sensible that he was not alone. But what did the occupant of the box care? The laugh was always with the dead: they were out of the muddle. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. In the genuinely dissipated face there was always a suggestion of slyness in ambush, peeping out of the wrinkles around the eyes and the lips. “There’s endless reasons, no doubt, why we shouldn’t,” he said.
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