Itworriedhimthatpostscript.Hecouldnotmakeoutforalongtimewhyitworriedhim.Suddenly，inawasteofendlesssnows，theexplanationflashedacrosshim.Sylviaoftheletterswasalivingwoman！Shecouldtravel——withabox，hesupposed，possiblywithtwoorthree，andparcels.Couldtaketickets，walkupagangway，staggeraboutadeckfeeling，maybe，alittleseasick.Alltheseyearshehadbeenlivingwithherindreamlandshehadbeen，ifhehadonlyknownit，aMissSomebody—or—other，whomusthavestoodeverymorninginfrontofalooking—glasswithhairpinsinhermouth.Hehadneverthoughtofherdoingthesethings;itshockedhim.Hecouldnothelpfeelingitwasindelicateofher——comingtolifeinthissudden，uncalled—formanner.
　　Hestruggledwiththisnewconceptionofher，andhadalmostforgivenher，whenafurtherandstillmorestartlingsuggestionarrivedtoplaguehim.Ifshereallylivedwhyshouldhenotseeher，speaktoher？Solongasshehadremainedinherhiddentemple，situateinthevaguerecessesofLondon，S.E.，herlettershadcontentedhim.Butnowthatshehadmoved，nowthatshewasnolongeravoicebutawoman！Well，itwouldbeinterestingtoseewhatshewaslike.Heimaginedtheintroduction："MissSomebody—
　　or—other，allowmetopresentyoutoMr.MatthewPole."ShewouldhavenoideahewasAstonRowant.Ifshehappenedtobeyoung，beautiful，inallwayssatisfactory，hewouldannouncehimself.Howastonished，howdelightedshewouldbe.
　　Butifnot！Ifshewereelderly，plain？Thewisest，wittiestofwomenhavebeenknowntohaveanincipientmoustache.Abeautifulspiritcan，andsometimesdoes，lookoutofgoggleeyes.Supposeshesufferedfromindigestionandhadashinynose！Wouldherletterseveragainhavethesamecharmforhim？Absurdthattheyshouldnot.Butwouldthey？
　　Theriskwastoogreat.Givingthematterlongandcarefulconsideration，hedecidedtosendherbackintodreamland.
　　Butsomehowshewouldnotgobackintodreamland，wouldpersistinremaininginNewYork，aliving，breathingwoman.
　　Yetevenso，howcouldhefindher？Hemight，say，inapoemconveytoherhisdesireforameeting.Wouldshecomply？Andifshedid，whatwouldbehisposition，supposingtheinspectiontoresultunfavourablyforher？Couldhe，ineffect，saytoher："Thankyouforlettingmehavealookatyou;thatisallIwanted.Good—bye"？
　　Shemust，sheshouldremainindreamland.Hewouldforgetherpostscript;infuturethrowherenvelopesunglancedatintothewastepaperbasket.HavingbythissimpleexerciseofhiswillreplacedherinLondon，hehimselfstartedforNewYork——onhiswaybacktoEurope，sohetoldhimself.Still，beinginNewYork，therewasnoreasonfornotlingeringthereawhile，ifmerelytorenewoldmemories.
　　Ofcourse，ifhehadreallywantedtofindSylviaitwouldhavebeeneasyfromthedateupontheenvelopetohavediscoveredtheship"sailingthefollowingSaturday."Passengerswerecompelledtoregistertheirnamesinfull，andtostatetheirintendedmovementsafterarrivalinAmerica.SylviawasnotacommonChristianname.
　　Bythehelpofafive—dollarbillortwo——.Theideahadnotoccurredtohimbefore.Hedismisseditfromhismindandsoughtaquiethoteluptown.
　　NewYorkwaschangedlessthanhehadanticipated.WestTwentiethStreetinparticularwaspreciselyas，leaningoutofthecabwindow，hehadlookedbackuponittenyearsago.Businesshadmoreandmoretakenpossessionofit，buthadnotasyetaltereditsappearance.HisconsciencesmotehimasheturnedthecornerthathehadneveroncewrittentoAnn.Hehadmeantto，itgoeswithoutsaying，butduringthosefirstyearsofstruggleandfailurehispridehadheldhimback.Shehadalwaysthoughthimafool;hehadfeltshedid.Hewouldwaittillhecouldwritetoherofsuccess，ofvictory.Andthenwhenithadslowly，almostimperceptibly，arrived——！Hewonderedwhyheneverhad.Quiteanicelittlegirl，insomerespects.Ifonlyshehadbeenlessconceited，lessself—willed.Alsoratheraprettygirlshehadshownsignsofbecoming.Thereweretimes——Herememberedaneveningbeforethelampswerelighted.ShehadfallenasleepcurledupinAbner’seasychair，onesmallhandrestinguponthearm.Shehadalwayshadquiteattractivehands——alittletoothin.Somethinghadmovedhimtostealacrosssoftlywithoutwakingher.Hesmiledatthememory.
　　Andthenhereyes，beneaththelevelbrows！ItwassurprisinghowAnnwascomingbacktohim.Perhapstheywouldbeabletotellhim，thepeopleofthehouse，whathadbecomeofher.Iftheyweredecentpeopletheywouldlethimwanderroundawhile.HewouldexplainthathehadlivedthereinAbnerHerrick’stime.TheroomwheretheyhadsometimesbeenagreeabletooneanotherwhileAbner，pretendingtoread，hadsatwatchingthemoutofthecornerofaneye.Hewouldliketositthereforafewmoments，byhimself.
　　Heforgotthathehadrungthebell.Averyyoungservanthadansweredthedoorandwasstaringathim.Hewouldhavewalkedinifthesmallservanthadnotplantedherselfdeliberatelyinhisway.Itrecalledhimtohimself.
　　"Ibegpardon，"saidMatthew，"butwouldyoupleasetellmewholiveshere？"
　　Thesmallservantlookedhimupanddownwithgrowingsuspicion.
　　"MissKavanaghliveshere，"shesaid."Whatdoyouwant？"
　　Thesurprisewassogreatitrenderedhimspeechless.Inanothermomentthesmallservantwouldhaveslammedthedoor.
　　"MissAnnKavanagh？"heinquired，justintime.
　　"That’shername，"admittedthesmallservant，lesssuspicious.
　　"WillyoupleasetellherMr.Pole——Mr.MatthewPole，"herequested.
　　"I’llseefirstifsheisin，"saidthesmallservant，andshutthedoor.
　　ItgaveMatthewafewminutestorecoverhimself，forwhichhewasglad.Thenthedooropenedagainsuddenly.
　　"Youaretocomeupstairs，"saidthesmallservant.
　　ItsoundedsolikeAnnthatitquiteputhimathisease.Hefollowedthesmallservantupthestairs.
　　"Mr.MatthewPole，"sheannouncedseverely，andclosedthedoorbehindhim.
　　Annwasstandingbythewindowandcametomeethim.ItwasinfrontofAbner’semptychairthattheyshookhands.
　　"Soyouhavecomebacktotheoldhouse，"saidMatthew.
　　"Yes，"sheanswered."Itneverletwell.ThelastpeoplewhohaditgaveitupatChristmas.Itseemedthebestthingtodo，evenfromapurelyeconomicalpointofview.
　　"Whathaveyoubeendoingalltheseyears？"sheaskedhim.
　　"Oh，knockingabout，"heanswered."Earningmyliving."HewascurioustodiscoverwhatshethoughtofMatthew，firstofall.
　　"Itseemstohaveagreedwithyou，"shecommented，withaglancethattookhimingenerally，includinghisclothes.
　　"Yes，"heanswered."IhavehadmoreluckthanperhapsIdeserved."
　　"Iamgladofthat，"saidAnn.
　　Helaughed."Soyouhaven’tchangedsoverymuch，"hesaid.
　　"Exceptinappearance.
　　"Isn’tthatthemostimportantpartofawoman？"suggestedAnn.
　　"Yes，"heanswered，thinking."Isupposeitis."
　　Shewascertainlyverybeautiful.
　　"HowlongareyoustoppinginNewYork？"sheaskedhim.
　　"Oh，notlong，"heexplained.
　　"Don’tleaveitforanothertenyears，"shesaid，"beforelettingmeknowwhatishappeningtoyou.Wedidn’tgetonverywelltogetheraschildren;butwemustn’tlethimthinkwe’renotfriends.Itwouldhurthim."
　　Shespokequiteseriously，asifshewereexpectinghimanymomenttoopenthedoorandjointhem.InvoluntarilyMatthewglancedroundtheroom.Nothingseemedaltered.Theworncarpet，thefadedcurtains，Abner’seasychair，hispipeuponthecornerofthemantelpiecebesidethevaseofspills.
　　"Itiscurious，"hesaid，"findingthisveinoffancy，oftendernessinyou.Ialwaysregardedyouassuchapractical，unsentimentalyoungperson."
　　"Perhapsweneitherofuskneweachothertoowell，inthosedays，"
　　sheanswered.
　　Thesmallservantenteredwiththetea.
　　"Whathaveyoubeendoingwithyourself？"heasked，drawinghischairuptothetable.
　　Shewaitedtillthesmallservanthadwithdrawn.
　　"Oh，knockingabout，"sheanswered."Earningmyliving."
　　"Itseemstohaveagreedwithyou，"herepeated，smiling.
　　"It’sallrightnow，"sheanswered."Itwasabitofastruggleatfirst."
　　"Yes，"heagreed."Lifedoesn’ttemperthewindtothehumanlamb.
　　Butwasthereanyneedinyourcase？"heasked."Ithought——"
　　"Oh，thatallwent，"sheexplained."Exceptthehouse."
　　"I’msorry，"saidMatthew."Ididn’tknow."
　　"Oh，wehavebeenacoupleofpigs，"shelaughed，replyingtohisthoughts."Ididsometimesthinkofwritingyou.Ikepttheaddressyougaveme.Notforanyassistance;Iwantedtofightitoutformyself.ButIwasabitlonely."
　　"Whydidn’tyou？"heasked.
　　Shehesitatedforamoment.
　　"It’srathersoontomakeupone’smind，"shesaid，"butyouseemtometohavechanged.Yourvoicesoundssodifferent.Butasaboy——
　　well，youwereabitofaprig，weren’tyou？Iimaginedyouwritingmegoodadviceandexcellentshortsermons.Anditwasn’tthatthatIwaswanting."
　　"IthinkIunderstand，"hesaid."I’mgladyougotthrough.
　　"Whatisyourline？"heasked."Journalism？"
　　"No，"sheanswered."Tooself—opinionated."
　　Sheopenedabureauthathadalwaysbeenherownandhandedhimaprogramme."MissAnnKavanagh，Contralto，"wasannouncedonitasoneofthechiefattractions.
　　"Ididn’tknowyouhadavoice，"saidMatthew.
　　"Youusedtocomplainofit，"sheremindedhim.
　　"Yourspeakingvoice，"hecorrectedher."Anditwasn’tthequalityofthatIobjectedto.Itwasthequantity."
　　Shelaughed.
　　"Yes，wekeptourselvesprettybusybringingoneanotherup，"sheadmitted.
　　Theytalkedawhilelonger：ofAbnerandhiskind，quaintways;ofoldfriends.Annhadlosttouchwithmostofthem.ShehadstudiedsinginginBrussels，andafterwardshermasterhadmovedtoLondonandshehadfollowedhim.ShehadonlyjustlatelyreturnedtoNewYork.
　　Thesmallservantenteredtoclearawaytheteathings.ShesaidshethoughtthatAnnhadrung.Hertoneimpliedthatanyhowitwastimeshehad.MatthewroseandAnnheldoutherhand.
　　"Ishallbeattheconcert，"hesaid.
　　"Itisn’ttillnextweek，"Annremindedhim.
　　"Oh，I’mnotinanyparticularhurry，"saidMatthew."Areyougenerallyinofanafternoon？"
　　"Sometimes，"saidAnn.
　　Hethoughtashesatwatchingherfromhisstallthatshewasoneofthemostbeautifulwomenhehadeverseen.Hervoicewasnotgreat.
　　Shehadwarnedhimnottoexpecttoomuch.
　　"ItwillneversettheThamesonfire，"shehadsaid."Ithoughtatfirstthatitwould.ButsuchasitisIthankGodforit."
　　Itwasworththat.Itwassweetandclearandhadatenderquality.
　　Matthewwaitedforherattheend.Shewasfeelingwelldisposedtowardsallcreaturesandacceptedhissuggestionofsupperwithgraciouscondescension.
　　Hehadcalledonheronceortwiceduringtheprecedingdays.Itwasduetoherafterhislongneglectofher，hetoldhimself，andhadfoundimprovementinher.Butto—nightsheseemedtotakeafreakishpleasureinlettinghimseethattherewasmuchoftheoldAnnstillleftinher：thefrankconceitofher;theamazingself—opinionatednessofher;thewaywardness，thewilfulness，theunreasonablenessofher;thegeneraluppishnessanddictatorialnessofher;thecontradictorinessandflatimpertinenceofher;theswifttemperandexasperatingtongueofher.
　　Itwasalmostasifshewerewarninghim."Yousee，Iamnotchanged，except，asyousay，inappearance.IamstillAnnwithalltheoldfaultsandfailingsthatoncemadelifeinthesamehousewithmeaconstanttrialtoyou.Justnowmyveryimperfectionsappearcharms.Youhavebeenlookingatthesun——atthegloryofmyface，atthewonderofmyarmsandhands.Youreyesareblinded.
　　Butthatwillpass.AndunderneathIamstillAnn.JustAnn."
　　Theyhadquarrelledinthecabonthewayhome.Heforgotwhatitwasabout，butAnnhadsaidsomequiterudethings，andherfacenotbeingthereinthedarknesstoexcuseher，ithadmadehimveryangry.Shehadlaughedagainonthesteps，andtheyhadshakenhands.ButwalkinghomethroughthestillstreetsSylviahadpluckedathiselbow.
　　Whatfoolswemortalsbe——especiallymen！Herewasanoblewoman——arestful，understanding，tenderlylovingwoman;awomanasnearlyapproachingperfectionasitwassafeforawomantogo！Thismarvellouswomanwaswaitingforhimwithoutstretchedarms（whyshouldhedoubtit？）——andjustbecauseNaturehadatlastsucceededinmakingatemporarysuccessofAnn’sskinandhadfashionedaroundedlineabovehershoulder—blade！Itmadehimquitecrosswithhimself.Tenyearsagoshehadbeengawkyandsallow—complexioned.
　　Tenyearshenceshemightcatchtheyellowjaundiceandloseitall.
　　PassagesinSylvia’slettersreturnedtohim.Herememberedthatfar—offeveninginhisParisatticwhenshehadknockedathisdoorwithhergreatgiftofthanks.Recalledhowhersoftshadowhandhadstilledhispain.HespentthenexttwodayswithSylvia.Here—readallherletters，livedagainthescenesandmoodsinwhichhehadrepliedtothem.
　　Herpersonalitystilldefiedtheeffortsofhisimagination，butheendedbyconvincinghimselfthathewouldknowherwhenhesawher.
　　ButcountingupthewomenonFifthAvenuetowardswhomhehadfeltinstinctivelydrawn，andfindingthatthenumberhadalreadyreachedeleven，begantodoubthisintuition.OnthemorningofthethirddayhemetAnnbychanceinabookseller’sshop.Herbackwastowardshim.ShewasglancingthroughAstonRowant’slatestvolume.
　　"WhatI，"saidthecheerfulyoungladywhowasattendingtoher，"likeabouthimisthatheunderstandswomensowell."
　　"WhatIlikeabouthim，"saidAnn，"isthathedoesn’tpretendto."
　　"There’ssomethinginthat，"agreedthecheerfulyounglady."Theysayhe’shereinNewYork."
　　Annlookedup.
　　"SoI’vebeentold，"saidthecheerfulyounglady.
　　"Iwonderwhathe’slike？"saidAnn.
　　"Hewroteforalongtimeunderanothername，"volunteeredthecheerfulyounglady."He’squiteanelderlyman."
　　ItirritatedMatthew.Hespokewithoutthinking.
　　"No，heisn’t，"hesaid."He’squiteyoung."
　　Theladiesturnedandlookedathim.
　　"Youknowhim？"queriedAnn.Shewasmostastonished，andappeareddisbelieving.Thatirritatedhimfurther.
　　"Ifyoucareaboutit，"hesaid."Iwillintroduceyoutohim."
　　Annmadenoanswer.Heboughtacopyofthebookforhimself，andtheywentouttogether.Theyturnedtowardsthepark.
　　Annseemedthoughtful."WhatishedoinghereinNewYork？"shewondered.
　　"LookingforaladynamedSylvia，"answeredMatthew.
　　Hethoughtthetimewascometobreakittoherthathewasagreatandfamousman.Thenperhapsshewouldbesorryshehadsaidwhatshehadsaidinthecab.Seeinghehadmadeuphismindthathisrelationshiptoherinthefuturewouldbethatofanaffectionatebrother，therewouldbenoharminalsolettingherknowaboutSylvia.Thatalsomightbegoodforher.
　　TheywalkedtwoblocksbeforeAnnspoke.Matthew，anticipatingapleasurableconversation，feltnodesiretohastenmatters.
　　"Howintimateareyouwithhim？"shedemanded."Idon’tthinkhewouldhavesaidthattoamereacquaintance."
　　"I’mnotamereacquaintance，"saidMatthew."I’veknownhimalongtime."
　　"Younevertoldme，"complainedAnn.
　　"Didn’tknowitwouldinterestyou，"repliedMatthew.
　　Hewaitedforfurtherquestions，buttheydidnotcome.AtThirty—
　　fourthStreethesavedherfrombeingrunoverandkilled，andagainatForty—secondStreet.Justinsidetheparkshestoppedabruptlyandheldoutherhand.
　　"Tellhim，"shereplied，"thatifheisreallyseriousaboutfindingSylvia，Imay——Idon’tsayIcan——butImaybeabletohelphim."
　　Hedidnottakeherhand，butstoodstockstillinthemiddleofthepathandstaredather.
　　"You！"hesaid."Youknowher？"
　　Shewaspreparedforhissurprise.Shewasalsoprepared——notwithalie，thatimpliesevilintention.Heronlyobjectwastohaveatalkwiththegentlemanandseewhathewaslikebeforedecidingonherfutureproceedings——letussay，withaplausiblestory.
　　"Wecrossedonthesameboat，"shesaid."Wefoundtherewasagooddealincommonbetweenus.She——shetoldmethings."Whenyoucametothinkitoutitwasalmostthetruth.
　　"Whatisshelike？"demandedMatthew.
　　"Oh，just——well，notexactly——"Itwasanawkwardquestion.Therecametoherreliefthereflectionthattherewasreallynoneedforhertoanswerit.
　　"What’sitgottodowithyou？"shesaid.
　　"IamAstonRowant，"saidMatthew.
　　TheCentralPark，togetherwiththeuniverseingeneral，fellawayanddisappeared.Somewhereoutofchaoswassoundingaplaintivevoice："Whatisshelike？Can’tyoutellme？Issheyoungorold？"
　　Itseemedtohavebeengoingonforages.Shemadeonesupremegiganticeffort，causingtheCentralParktoreappear，dimly，faintly，butitwasthereagain.Shewassittingonaseat.
　　Matthew——AstonRowant，whateveritwas——wasseatedbesideher.
　　"You’veseenher？Whatisshelike？"
　　"Ican’ttellyou."
　　Hewasevidentlyverycrosswithher.Itseemedsounkindofhim.
　　"Whycan’tyoutellme——or，whywon’tyoutellme？Doyoumeanshe’stooawfulforwords？"
　　"No，certainlynot——asamatteroffact——"
　　"Well，what？"
　　Shefeltshemustgetawayortherewouldbehystericssomewhere.
　　Shesprangupandbegantowalkrapidlytowardsthegate.Hefollowedher.
　　"I’llwriteyou，"saidAnn.
　　"Butwhy——？"
　　"Ican’t，"saidAnn."I’vegotarehearsal."
　　Acarwaspassing.Shemadeadashforitandclamberedon.Beforehecouldmakeuphismindithadgatheredspeed.
　　Annletherselfinwithherkey.Shecalleddownstairstothesmallservantthatshewasn’ttobedisturbedforanything.Shelockedthedoor.
　　SoitwastoMatthewthatforsixyearsshehadbeenpouringoutherinmostthoughtsandfeelings！ItwastoMatthewthatshehadlaidbarehertenderest，mostsacreddreams！ItwasatMatthew’sfeetthatforsixyearsshehadbeensitting，gazingupwithrespectfuladmiration，withreverentialdevotion！Sherecalledherletters，almostpassageforpassage，tillshehadtoholdherhandstoherfacetocoolit.Herindignation，onemightalmostsayfury，lastedtilltea—time.
　　Intheevening——itwasintheeveningtimethatshehadalwayswrittentohim——amorereasonableframeofmindasserteditself.
　　Afterall，itwashardlyhisfault.Hecouldn’thaveknownwhoshewas.Hedidn’tknownow.Shehadwantedtowrite.Withoutdoubthehadhelpedher，comfortedherloneliness;hadgivenheracharmingfriendship，adelightfulcomradeship.Muchofhisworkhadbeenwrittenforher，toher.Itwasfinework.Shehadbeenproudofhershareinit.Evenallowingtherewerefaults——irritability，shortnessoftemper，atendencytobossiness！——underneathitallwasaman.Thegallantstruggle，thedifficultiesovercome，thelongsuffering，thehighcourage——allthatshe，readingbetweenthelines，haddivinedofhislife’sbattle！Yes，itwasamanshehadworshipped.Awomanneednotbeashamedofthat.AsMatthewhehadseemedtoherconceited，priggish.AsAstonRowantshewonderedathismodesty，hispatience.
　　Andalltheseyearshehadbeendreamingofher;hadfollowedhertoNewYork;had——
　　Therecameasuddenmoodsoludicrous，soabsurdlyunreasonablethatAnnherselfstoppedtolaughatit.Yetitwasreal，andithurt.
　　HehadcometoNewYorkthinkingofSylvia，yearningforSylvia.HehadcometoNewYorkwithonedesire：tofindSylvia.AndthefirstprettywomanthathadcomeacrosshispathhadsentSylviacleanoutofhishead.Therecouldbenoquestionofthat.WhenAnnKavanaghstretchedoutherhandtohiminthatveryroomafortnightagohehadstoodbeforeherdazzled，captured.FromthatmomentSylviahadbeentossedasideandforgotten.AnnKavanaghcouldhavedonewhatshelikedwithhim.Shehadquarrelledwithhimthateveningoftheconcert.Shehadmeanttoquarrelwithhim.
　　AndthenforthefirsttimehehadrememberedSylvia.Thatwasherreward——Sylvia’s：itwasSylviashewasthinkingof——forsixyears’
　　devotedfriendship;forthehelp，theinspirationshehadgivenhim.
　　AsSylvia，shesufferedfromaverygenuineandexplainablewaveofindignantjealousy.AsAnn，sheadmittedheoughtnottohavedoneit，butfelttherewasexcuseforhim.Betweenthetwoshefearedhermindwouldeventuallygiveway.OnthemorningoftheseconddayshesentMatthewanoteaskinghimtocallintheafternoon.
　　Sylviamightbethere，orshemightnot.Shewouldmentionittoher.
　　Shedressedherselfinaquiet，dark—colouredfrock.Itseemeduncommittalandsuitabletotheoccasion.Italsohappenedtobethecolourthatbestsuitedher.Shewouldnothavethelampslighted.
　　Matthewarrivedinadarksergesuitandabluenecktie，sothatthegeneraleffectwasquiet.Anngreetedhimwithkindlinessandputhimwithhisfacetowhatlittlelighttherewas.Shechoseforherselfthewindow—seat.Sylviahadnotarrived.Shemightbealittlelate——thatis，ifshecameatall.
　　Theytalkedabouttheweatherforawhile.Matthewwasofopiniontheyweregoingtohavesomerain.Ann，whowasinoneofhercontradictorymoods，thoughttherewasfrostintheair.
　　"Whatdidyousaytoher？"heasked.
　　"Sylvia？Oh，whatyoutoldme，"repliedAnn."ThatyouhadcometoNewYorkto——tolookforher."
　　"Whatdidshesay？"heasked.
　　"Saidyou’dtakenyourtimeaboutit，"retortedAnn.
　　Matthewlookedupwithaninjuredexpression.
　　"Itwasherownideathatweshouldnevermeet，"heexplained.
　　"Um！"Anngrunted.
　　"Whatdoyouthinkyourselfshewillbelike？"shecontinued."Haveyouformedanynotion？"
　　"Itiscurious，"hereplied."Ihaveneverbeenabletoconjureupanypictureofheruntiljustnow."
　　"Why’justnow’？"demandedAnn.
　　"IhadanideaIshouldfindherherewhenIopenedthedoor，"heanswered."Youwerestandingintheshadow.ItseemedtobejustwhatIhadexpected."
　　"Youwouldhavebeensatisfied？"sheasked.
　　"Yes，"hesaid.
　　Therewassilenceforamoment.
　　"UncleAbmadeamistake，"hecontinued."Heoughttohavesentmeaway.Letmecomehomenowandthen."
　　"Youmean，"saidAnn，"thatifyouhadseenlessofmeyoumighthavelikedmebetter？"
　　"Quiteright，"headmitted."Weneverseethethingsthatarealwaysthere."
　　"Athin，gawkygirlwithabadcomplexion，"shesuggested."Wouldithavebeenofanyuse？"
　　"Youmustalwayshavebeenwonderfulwiththoseeyes，"heanswered.
　　"Andyourhandswerebeautifuleventhen."
　　"IusedtocrysometimeswhenIlookedatmyselfintheglassasachild，"sheconfessed."Myhandsweretheonlythingthatconsoledme."
　　"Ikissedthemonce，"hetoldher."Youwereasleep，curledupinUncleAb’schair."
　　"Iwasn’tasleep，"saidAnn.
　　Shewasseatedwithonefoottuckedunderneathher.Shedidn’tlookabitgrownup.
　　"Youalwaysthoughtmeafool，"hesaid.
　　"Itusedtomakemesoangrywithyou，"saidAnn，"thatyouseemedtohavenogo，noambitioninyou.Iwantedyoutowakeup——dosomething.IfIhadknownyouwereabuddinggenius——"
　　"Ididhintittoyou，"saidhe.
　　"Oh，ofcourseitwasallmyfault，"saidAnn.
　　Herose."Youthinkshemeanstocome？"heasked.Annalsohadrisen.
　　"Isshesoverywonderful？"sheasked.
　　"Imaybeexaggeratingtomyself，"heanswered."ButIamnotsurethatIcouldgoonwithmyworkwithouther——notnow."
　　"Youforgother，"flashedAnn，"tillwehappenedtoquarrelinthecab."
　　"Ioftendo，"heconfessed."Tillsomethinggoeswrong.Thenshecomestome.Asshedidonthatfirstevening，sixyearsago.Yousee，Ihavebeenmoreorlesslivingwithhersincethen，"headdedwithasmile.
　　"Indreamland，"Anncorrected.
　　"Yes，butinmycase，"heanswered，"thebestpartofmylifeispassedindreamland."
　　"Andwhenyouarenotindreamland？"shedemanded."Whenyou’rejustirritable，short—tempered，crankyMatthewPole.What’sshegoingtodoaboutyouthen？"
　　"She’llputupwithme，"saidMatthew.
　　"Noshewon’t，"saidAnn."She’llsnapyourheadoff.Mostofthe’puttingupwith’you’llhavetodo."
　　Hetriedtogetbetweenherandthewindow，butshekeptherfaceclosetothepane.
　　"YoumakemetiredwithSylvia，"shesaid."It’sabouttimeyoudidknowwhatshe’slike.She’sjustthecommonplace，short—tempered，disagreeable—if—she—doesn’t—get—her—own—way，unreasonablewoman.
　　Onlymoreso."
　　Hedrewherawayfromthewindowbybruteforce.
　　"Soyou’reSylvia，"hesaid.
　　"Ithoughtthatwouldgetitintoyourhead，"saidAnn.
　　Itwasnotatallthewayshehadmeanttobreakittohim.ShehadmeanttheconversationtobechieflyaboutSylvia.ShehadahighopinionofSylvia，amuchhigheropinionthanshehadofAnnKavanagh.Ifheprovedtobeworthyofher——ofSylvia，thatis，then，withthewhimsicalsmilethatshefeltbelongedtoSylvia，shewouldremarkquitesimply，"Well，whathaveyougottosaytoher？"
　　WhathadhappenedtointerferewiththeprogrammewasAnnKavanagh.
　　ItseemedthatAnnKavanaghhaddislikedMatthewPolelessthanshehadthoughtshedid.ItwasafterhehadsailedawaythatlittleAnnKavanaghhaddiscoveredthis.Ifonlyhehadshownalittlemoreinterestin，alittlemoreappreciationof，AnnKavanagh！Hecouldbekindandthoughtfulinapatronisingsortofway.Eventhatwouldnothavematterediftherehadbeenanyjustificationforhisairsofsuperiority.
　　AnnKavanagh，whooughttohavetakenabackseatonthisoccasion，hadpersistedincomingtothefront.Itwassolikeher.
　　"Well，"shesaid，"whatareyougoingtosaytoher？"Shedidgetitin，afterall.
　　"Iwasgoing，"saidMatthew，"totalktoheraboutArtandLiterature，touching，maybe，uponafewothersubjects.Also，I
　　mighthavesuggestedourseeingeachotheragainonceortwice，justtogetbetteracquainted.AndthenIwasgoingaway."
　　"Whygoingaway？"askedAnn.
　　"ToseeifIcouldforgetyou."
　　Sheturnedtohim.Thefadinglightwasfulluponherface.
　　"Idon’tbelieveyoucould——again，"shesaid.
　　"No，"heagreed."I’mafraidIcouldn’t."
　　"You’resurethere’snobodyelse，"saidAnn，"thatyou’reinlovewith.Onlyustwo？"
　　"Onlyyoutwo，"hesaid.
　　ShewasstandingwithherhandonoldAbner’semptychair."You’vegottochoose，"shesaid.Shewastrembling.Hervoicesoundedjustalittlehard.
　　Hecameandstoodbesideher."IwantAnn，"hesaid.
　　Sheheldoutherhandtohim.
　　"I’msogladyousaidAnn，"shelaughed.
　　THEFAWNGLOVES.
　　Alwaysherememberedherashesawherfirst：thelittlespiritualface，thelittlebrownshoespointeddownwards，theirtoesjusttouchingtheground;thelittlefawnglovesfoldeduponherlap.Hewasnotconsciousofhavingnoticedherwithanyparticularattention：aplainlydressed，childish—lookingfigurealoneonaseatbetweenhimandthesettingsun.Evenhadhefeltcurioushisshynesswouldhavepreventedhisdeliberatelyrunningtheriskofmeetinghereyes.Yetimmediatelyhehadpassedherhesawheragain，quiteclearly：thepaleovalface，thebrownshoes，and，betweenthem，thelittlefawnglovesfoldedoneovertheother.AlldowntheBroadWalkandacrossPrimroseHill，hesawhersilhouettedagainstthesinkingsun.Atleastthatmuchofher：thewistfulfaceandthetrimbrownshoesandthelittlefoldedhands;untilthesunwentdownbehindthehighchimneysofthebrewerybeyondSwissCottage，andthenshefaded.
　　Shewasthereagainthenextevening，preciselyinthesameplace.
　　UsuallyhewalkedhomebytheHampsteadRoad.Onlyoccasionally，whenthebeautyoftheeveningtemptedhim，wouldhetakethelongerwaybyRegentStreetandthroughthePark.Butsooftenitmadehimfeelsad，thequietPark，forcinguponhimthesenseofhisownloneliness.
　　HewouldwalkdownmerelyasfarastheGreatVase，sohearrangedwithhimself.Ifshewerenotthere——itwasnotlikelythatshewouldbe——hewouldturnbackintoAlbanyStreet.Thenewsvendors’
　　shopswiththeirdisplayofthecheaperillustratedpapers，thesecond—handfurnituredealerswiththeirfadedengravingsandoldprints，wouldgivehimsomethingtolookat，totakeawayhisthoughtsfromhimself.Butseeingherinthedistance，almostthemomenthehadenteredthegate，itcametohimhowdisappointedhewouldhavebeenhadtheseatinfrontoftheredtulipbedbeenvacant.Alittleawayfromherhepaused，turningtolookattheflowers.Hethoughtthat，waitinghisopportunity，hemightbeabletostealaglanceatherundetected.Onceforamomenthedidso，butventuringasecondtimetheireyesmet，orhefanciedtheydid，andblushingfuriouslyhehurriedpast.Butagainshecamewithhim，or，rather，precededhim.Oneachemptyseatbetweenhimandthesinkingsunhesawherquiteplainly：thepaleovalfaceandthebrownshoes，and，betweenthem，thefawnglovesfoldedoneupontheother.
　　Onlythisevening，aboutthesmall，sensitivemouththereseemedtobehoveringjustthefaintestsuggestionofatimidsmile.AndthistimeshelingeredwithhimpastQueen’sCrescentandtheMaldenRoad，tillheturnedintoCarltonStreet.Itwasdarkinthepassage，andhehadtogropehiswayupthestairs，butwithhishandonthedoorofthebed—sittingroomonthethirdfloorhefeltlessafraidofthesolitudethatwouldrisetomeethim.
　　AlldaylonginthedingybackofficeinAbingdonStreet，Westminster，wherefromtentosixeachdayhesatcopyingbriefsandpetitions，hethoughtoverwhathewouldsaytoher;tactfulbeginningsbymeansofwhichhewouldslideintoconversationwithher.UpPortlandPlacehewouldrehearsethemtohimself.ButatCambridgeGate，whenthelittlefawnglovescameinview，thewordswouldrunaway，tojoinhimagainmaybeatthegateintotheChesterRoad，leavinghimmeanwhiletopassherwithstiff，hurriedstepsandeyesfixedstraightinfrontofhim.Andsoitmighthavecontinued，butthatoneeveningshewasnolongeratherusualseat.
　　Acrowdofnoisychildrenswarmedoverit，andsuddenlyitseemedtohimasifthetreesandflowershadallturneddrab.Aterrorgnawedathisheart，andhehurriedon，morefortheneedofmovementthanwithanydefiniteobject.Andjustbeyondabedofgeraniumsthathadhiddenhisviewshewasseatedonachair，andstoppingwithajerkabsolutelyinfrontofher，hesaid，quiteangrily：
　　"Oh！thereyouare！"
　　Whichwasnotabitthespeechwithwhichhehadintendedtointroducehimself，butservedhispurposejustaswell——perhapsbetter.
　　Shedidnotresenthiswordsorthetone.
　　"Itwasthechildren，"sheexplained."Theywantedtoplay;soI
　　thoughtIwouldcomeonalittlefarther."
　　Uponwhich，asamatterofcourse，hetookthechairbesideher，anditdidnotoccurtoeitherofthemthattheyhadnotknownoneanothersincethebeginning，whenbetweenSt.John’sWoodandAlbanyStreetGodplantedagarden.
　　Eacheveningtheywouldlingerthere，listeningtothepleadingpassionoftheblackbird’snote，thethrush’scalltojoyandhope.
　　Helovedhergentleways.Fromtheboldchallenges，theslyglancesofinvitationflasheduponhiminthestreetorfromsomeneighbouringtableinthecheapluncheonroomhehadalwaysshrunkconfusedandawkward.Hershynessgavehimconfidence.Itwasshewhowashalfafraid，whoseeyeswouldfallbeneathhisgaze，whowouldtrembleathistouch，givinghimthedelightsofmanlydominion，oftenderauthority.Itwashewhoinsistedonthearistocraticseclusionaffordedbytheprivatechair;who，withthecarelessindifferenceofamantowhompennieswereunimportant，wouldpayforthemboth.OnceonhiswaythroughPiccadillyCircushehadpausedbythefountaintoglanceatagreatbasketofliliesofthevalley，strucksuddenlybythethoughthowstrangelytheirlittlepalepetalsseemedsuggestiveofher.
　　"’Erey’are，honey.Herfavouriteflower！"criedthegirl，withagrin，holdingabunchtowardshim.
　　"Howmuch？"hehadasked，vainlytryingtokeepthebloodfromrushingtohisface.
　　Thegirlpausedamoment，acoarse，kindlycreature.
　　"Sixpence，"shedemanded;andheboughtthem.Shehadmeanttoaskhimashilling，andknewhewouldhavepaidit."Sameassillyfool！"shecalledherselfasshepocketedthemoney.
　　Hegavethemtoherwithafinelordlyair，andwatchedherwhileshepinnedthemtoherblouse，andasquirrelhaltinginthemiddleofthewalkwatchedheralsowithhisheadononeside，wonderingwhatwasthegoodofthemthatsheshouldstorethemwithsomuchcare.Shedidnotthankhiminwords，butthereweretearsinhereyeswhensheturnedherfacetohis，andoneofthelittlefawnglovesstoleoutandsoughthishand.Hetookitinbothhis，andwouldhaveheldit，butshewithdrewitalmosthurriedly.
　　Theyappealedtohim，hergloves，inspiteoftheirbeingoldandmuchmended;andhewasgladtheywereofkid.Hadtheybeenofcotton，suchasgirlsofherclassusuallywore，thethoughtofpressinghislipstothemwouldhaveputhisteethonedge.Helovedthelittlebrownshoes，thatmusthavebeenexpensivewhennew，fortheystillkepttheirshape.Andthefringeofdaintypetticoat，alwayssospotlessandwithneveratear，andtheneat，plainstockingsthatshowedbelowthecloselyfittingfrock.Sooftenhehadnoticedgirls，showily，extravagantlydressed，butwithredbarehandsandsloppyshoes.Handsomegirls，someofthem，attractiveenoughifyouwerenotofafinickingnature，towhomthelittleaccessoriesarealmostofmoreimportancethanthewhole.
　　Helovedhervoice，sodifferentfromthestridenttonesthateverynowandthen，assomecouple，laughingandtalking，passedthem，wouldfalluponhimalmostlikeablow;herquick，gracefulmovementsthatalwaysbroughtbacktohismemorythevisionofhillandstream.Inherlittlebrownshoesandglovesandthefrockwhichwasalsoofashadeofbrownthoughdarker，shewasstrangelysuggestivetohimofafawn.Thegentlelook，theswift，softmovementsthathavetakenplacebeforetheyareseen;thehauntingsuggestionoffearneverquiteconquered，asifthelittlenervouslimbswerealwaysreadyforsuddenflight.Hecalledherthatoneday.Neitherofthemhadeverthoughttoaskoneanother’snames;
　　itdidnotseemtomatter.
　　"Mylittlebrownfawn，"hehadwhispered，"Iamalwaysexpectingyoutosuddenlydigyourlittleheelsintothegroundandspringaway";
　　andshehadlaughedanddrawnalittleclosertohim.Andeventhatwasjustthemovementofafawn.Hehadknownthem，creepingneartothemuponthehill—sideswhenhewasachild.
　　Therewasmuchincommonbetweenthem，sotheyfound.ThoughhecouldclaimafewdistantrelativesscatteredabouttheNorth，theywereboth，forallpracticalpurposes，aloneintheworld.Toher，also，homemeantabed—sittingroom——"overthere，"assheindicatedwithawaveofthelittlefawngloveembracingthenorth—westdistrictgenerally;andhedidnotpressherforanymorepreciseaddress.
　　Itwaseasyenoughforhimtopictureit：themean，close—smellingstreetsomewhereintheneighbourhoodofLissonGrove，orfartherontowardstheHarrowRoad.Alwayshepreferredtosaygood—byetoheratsomepointintheOuterCircle，withitspeacefulvistaoffinetreesandstatelyhouses，watchingherlittlefawn—likefigurefadingawayintothetwilight.
　　Nofriendorrelativehadsheeverknown，exceptthepale，girlish—lookingmotherwhohaddiedsoonaftertheyhadcometoLondon.Theelderlylandladyhadletherstayon，helpingintheworkofthehouse;andwheneventhislastrefugehadfailedher，well—meaningfolkhadinterestedthemselvesandsecuredheremployment.Itwaslightandfairlywellpaid，buttherewereobjectionstoit，sohegathered，morefromherhaltingsilencesthanfromwhatshesaid.Shehadtriedforatimetofindsomethingelse，butitwassodifficultwithouthelporresources.Therewasnothingreallytocomplainaboutit，except——Andthenshepausedwithasuddenclaspoftheglovedhands，and，seeingthetroubledlookinhereyes，hehadchangedtheconversation.
　　Itdidnotmatter;hewouldtakeherawayfromit.Itwasverysweettohim，thethoughtofputtingaprotectivearmaboutthislittlefragilecreaturewhoseweaknessgavehimstrength.Hewasnotalwaysgoingtobeaclerkinanoffice.Hewasgoingtowritepoetry，books，plays.Alreadyhehadearnedalittle.Hetoldherofhishopes，andhergreatfaithinhimgavehimnewcourage.Oneevening，findingaseatwherefewpeopleeverpassed，hereadtoher.Andshehadunderstood.Allunconsciouslyshelaughedintherightplaces，andwhenhisownvoicetrembled，andhefounditdifficulttocontinueforthelumpinhisownthroat，glancingatherhesawthetearswereinhereyes.Itwasthefirsttimehehadtastedsympathy.
　　Andsospringgrewtosummer.Andthenoneeveningagreatthinghappened.Hecouldnotmakeoutatfirstwhatitwasabouther：
　　somelittleaddedfragrancethatmadeitselfoddlyfelt，whilesheherselfseemedtobeconsciousofincreaseddignity.Itwasnotuntilhetookherhandtosaygood—byethathediscoveredit.Therewassomethingdifferentaboutthefeelofher，and，lookingdownatthelittlehandthatlayinhis，hefoundthereason.Shehadonapairofnewgloves.Theywerestillofthesamefawncolour，butsosmoothandsoftandcool.Theyfittedcloselywithoutawrinkle，displayingtheslightnessandthegracefulnessofthehandsbeneath.
　　Thetwilighthadalmostfaded，and，saveforthebroadbackofadisappearingpoliceman，theyhadtheOuterCircletothemselves;
　　and，thesuddenimpulsecomingtohim，hedroppedononeknee，astheydoinplaysandstorybooksandsometimeselsewhere，andpressedthelittlefawnglovestohislipsinalong，passionatekiss.Thesoundofapproachingfootstepsmadehimrisehurriedly.
　　Shedidnotmove，butherwholebodywastrembling，andinhereyeswasalookthatwasalmostoffear.Theapproachingfootstepscamenearer，butabendoftheroadstillscreenedthem.Swiftlyandinsilencesheputherarmsabouthisneckandkissedhim.Itwasastrange，coldkiss，butalmostfierce，andthenwithoutawordsheturnedandwalkedaway;andhewatchedhertothecornerofHanoverGate，butshedidnotlookback.
　　Itwasalmostasifithadraisedabarrierbetweenthem，thatkiss.
　　Thenexteveningshecametomeethimwithasmileasusual，butinhereyeswasstillthatoddsuggestionoflurkingfear;andwhen，seatedbesideher，heputhishandonhersitseemedtohimsheshrankawayfromhim.Itwasanunconsciousmovement.Itbroughtbacktohimthathauntingmemoryofhillandstreamwhensomesoft—
　　eyedfawn，strayedfromherfellows，wouldlethimapproachquiteclosetoher，andthen，whenheputouthishandtocaressher，wouldstartawaywithaswift，quiveringmovement.
　　"Doyoualwaysweargloves？"heaskedheroneeveningalittlelater.
　　"Yes，"sheanswered，speakinglow;"whenI’moutofdoors."
　　"Butthisisnotoutofdoors，"hehadpleaded."Wehavecomeintothegarden.Won’tyoutakethemoff？"
　　Shehadlookedathimfromunderbentbrows，asiftryingtoreadhim.Shedidnotanswerhimthen.Butonthewayout，onthelastseatclosetothegate，shehadsatdown，motioninghimtositbesideher.Quietlysheunbuttonedthefawngloves;dreweachoneoffandlaidthemaside.Andthen，forthefirsttime，hesawherhands.
　　Hadhelookedather，seenthefainthopedieout，themuteagonyinthequieteyeswatchinghim，hewouldhavetriedtohidethedisgust，thephysicalrepulsionthatshoweditselfsoplainlyinhisface，intheinvoluntarymovementwithwhichhedrewawayfromher.
　　Theyweresmallandshapelywithroundedcurves，butrawandsearedaswithhotirons，withagrowthofred，angry—colouredwarts，andthenailsallwornaway.
　　"Ioughttohaveshownthemtoyoubefore，"shesaidsimplyasshedrewtheglovesonagain."Itwassillyofme.Ioughttohaveknown."
　　Hetriedtocomforther，buthisphrasescamemeaninglessandhalting.
　　Itwasthework，sheexplainedastheywalkedon.Itmadeyourhandslikethatafteratime.Ifonlyshecouldhavegotoutofitearlier！Butnow！Itwasnogoodworryingaboutitnow.
　　TheypartedneartotheHanoverGate，butto—nighthedidnotstandwatchingherashehadalwaysdonetillshewavedalastgood—byetohimjustbeforedisappearing;sowhethersheturnedornotheneverknew.
　　Hedidnotgotomeetherthenextevening.Adozentimeshisfootstepsledhimunconsciouslyalmosttothegate.Thenhewouldhurryawayagain，pacethemeanstreets，jostlingstupidlyagainstthepassers—by.Thepale，sweetface，thelittlenymph—likefigure，thelittlebrownshoeskeptcallingtohim.Ifonlytherewouldpassawaythehorrorofthosehands！Alltheartistinhimshudderedatthememoryofthem.Alwayshehadimaginedthemundertheneat，smoothglovesasfittinginwithalltherestofher，dreamingofthetimewhenhewouldholdtheminhisown，caressingthem，kissingthem.Woulditbepossibletoforgetthem，toreconcileoneselftothem？Hemustthink——mustgetawayfromthesecrowdedstreetswherefacesseemedtogrinathim.HerememberedthatParliamenthadjustrisen，thatworkwasslackintheoffice.
　　Hewouldaskthathemighttakehisholidaynow——thenextday.Andtheyhadagreed.
　　Hepackedafewthingsintoaknapsack.Fromthevoicesofthehillsandstreamshewouldfindcounsel.
　　Hetooknocountofhiswanderings.Oneeveningatalonelyinnhemetayoungdoctor.Theinnkeeper’swifewasexpectingtobetakenwithchildthatnight，andthedoctorwaswaitingdownstairstillsummoned.Whiletheyweretalking，theideacametohim.Whyhadhenotthoughtofit？Overcominghisshyness，heputhisquestions.
　　Whatworkwoulditbethatwouldcausesuchinjuries？Hedescribedthem，seeingthembeforehimintheshadowsofthedimlylightedroom，thosepoor，pitifullittlehands.
　　Oh！adozenthingsmightaccountforit——thedoctor’svoicesoundedcallous——thehandlingofflax，evenoflinenundercertainconditions.Chemicalsenteredsomuchnowadaysintoallsortsofprocessesandpreparations.Allthisnewphotography，cheapcolourprinting，dyeingandcleaning，metalwork.Mightallbeavoidedbyprovidingrubbergloves.Itoughttobemadecompulsory.Thedoctorseemedinclinedtoholdforth.Heinterruptedhim.
　　Butcoulditbecured？Wasthereanyhope？
　　Cured？Hope？Ofcourseitcouldbecured.Itwasonlylocal——theeffectbeingconfinedtothehandsprovedthat.Apoisonedconditionoftheskinaggravatedbygeneralpovertyofblood.Takeherawayfromit;letherhaveplentyoffreshairandcarefuldiet，usingsomesuchsimpleointmentoranotherasanylocalman，seeingthem，wouldprescribe;andinthreeorfourmonthstheywouldrecover.
　　Hecouldhardlystaytothanktheyoungdoctor.Hewantedtogetawaybyhimself，toshout，towavehisarms，toleap.Haditbeenpossiblehewouldhavereturnedthatverynight.Hecursedhimselfforthefancifulnessthathadpreventedhisinquiringheraddress.
　　Hecouldhavesentatelegram.Risingatdawn，forhehadnotattemptedtosleep，hewalkedthetenmilestothenearestrailwaystation，andwaitedforthetrain.Alldaylongitseemedtocreepwithhimthroughtheendlesscountry.ButLondoncameatlast.
　　Itwasstilltheafternoon，buthedidnotcaretogotohisroom.
　　Leavinghisknapsackatthestation，hemadehiswaytoWestminster.
　　Hewantedallthingstobeunchanged，sothatbetweenthiseveningandtheirpartingitmightseemasiftherehadmerelypassedanuglydream;andtiminghimself，hereachedtheparkjustattheirusualhour.
　　Hewaitedtillthegateswereclosed，butshedidnotcome.Alldaylongatthebackofhismindhadbeenthatfear，buthehaddrivenitaway.Shewasill，justaheadache，ormerelytired.
　　Andthenexteveninghetoldhimselfthesame.Hedarednotwhispertohimselfanythingelse.Andeachsucceedingeveningagain.Heneverrememberedhowmany.Foratimehewouldsitwatchingthepathbywhichshehadalwayscome;andwhenthehourwaslongpasthewouldriseandwalktowardsthegate，lookeastandwest，andthenreturn.Oneeveninghestoppedoneofthepark—keepersandquestionedhim.Yes，themanrememberedherquitewell：theyoungladywiththefawngloves.Shehadcomeonceortwice——maybeoftener，thepark—keepercouldnotbesure——andhadwaited.No，therehadbeennothingtoshowthatshewasinanywayupset.Shehadjustsatthereforatime，nowandthenwalkingalittlewayandthencomingbackagain，untiltheclosinghour，andthenshehadgone.Helefthisaddresswiththepark—keeper.Themanpromisedtolethimknowifheeversawherthereagain.
　　Sometimes，insteadofthepark，hewouldhauntthemeanstreetsaboutLissonGroveandfarbeyondtheothersideoftheEdgwareRoad，pacingthemtillnightfell.Butheneverfoundher.
　　Hewondered，beatingagainstthebarsofhispoverty，ifmoneywouldhavehelpedhim.Butthegrim，endlesscity，hidingitsmillionsecrets，seemedtomockthethought.Afewpoundshehadscrapedtogetherhespentinadvertisements;butheexpectednoresponse，andnonecame.Itwasnotlikelyshewouldseethem.
　　Andsoafteratimethepark，andeventhestreetsroundaboutit，becamehatefultohim;andhemovedawaytoanotherpartofLondon，hopingtoforget.Butheneverquitesucceeded.Alwaysitwouldcomebacktohimwhenhewasnotthinking：thebroad，quietwalkwithitsprimtreesandgaybedsofflowers.Andalwayshewouldseeherseatedthere，framedbythefadinglight.Atleast，thatmuchofher：thelittlespiritualface，andthebrownshoespointingdownwards，andbetweenthemthelittlefawnglovesfoldeduponherlap.