And next morning she attired herself with especial care and neatness, found his address in the Directory at a post-office, and went to him. Deep silences came between them. I've told you about him; and you wrote a shrewd yarn on the subject. Ann Veronica could at the same time ask herself what this queer old gentleman could have meant by speaking to her, and know—know in general terms, at least—what that accosting signified. Here he was almost stunned by the deafening clamour resounding on all sides. It was a motor accident—a fatal motor accident the evening papers called it. She could hear him from the lower floor as he locked the gates and drew up the wooden part of the bridge. He was sitting back from the table now, with one arm over the back of his green chair and the other resting on the little table. I ought never to have thought of it. But there was something in his face at once stupid and invincible that told her he would go on forcing himself upon her, that he would esteem speech with her a great point gained. I haven't touched the other.
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