He must do both
things; he must see Chad, but he must go. The more he thought of
the former of these duties the more he felt himself make a subject
of insistence of the latter. They were alike intensely present to
him as he sat in front of a quiet little cafe into which he had
dropped on quitting Maria's entresol. The rain that had spoiled
his evening with her was over; for it was still to him as if his
evening HAD been spoiled--though it mightn't have been wholly the
rain. It was late when he left the cafe, yet not too late; he
couldn't in any case go straight to bed, and he would walk round
by the Boulevard Malesherbes--rather far round--on his way home.
Present enough always was the small circumstance that had
originally pressed for him the spring of so big a difference--the
accident of little Bilham's appearance on the balcony of the mystic
troisieme at the moment of his first visit, and the effect of it on
his sense of what was then before him. He recalled his watch, his
wait, and the recognition that had proceeded from the young
stranger, that had played frankly into the air and had presently
brought him up--things smoothing the way for his first straight
step. He had since had occasion, a few times, to pass the house
without going in; but he had never passed it without again feeling
how it had then spoken to him.
Pages:
659
660
661
662
663
664
665
666
667
668
669
670
671
672
673
674
675
676
677
678
679
680
681
682
683