He would get her to come to tea with him, usually in a pleasant tea-room over a fruit-shop in Tottenham Court Road, and he would discuss his own point of view and hint at a thousand devotions were she but to command him. Loneliness—something that was almost physical: as if the vitality had been taken out of the air she breathed. You’d better not have all the money on you; you had better open a small account in the postoffice and draw it out a fiver at a time. " "Pity!" shrieked the widow. Her family are solid West End people, Kensington people. She was a woman now to the tips of her fingers; she had said good-bye to her girlhood in the old garden four years and a quarter ago.
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