There's a hundred pounds too much. I’ll buzz him for you. Again he rushed. The flowers upon the mantel-shelf were withered and drooping—she had gathered them. She had a compartment to herself in the train from London to Morningside Park, and she sat with both her feet on the seat in an attitude that would certainly have distressed her mother to see, and horrified her grandmother beyond measure; she sat with her knees up to her chin and her hands clasped before them, and she was so lost in thought that she discovered with a start, from a lettered lamp, that she was at Morningside Park, and thought she was moving out of the station, whereas she was only moving in. She so wanted to keep her memory of him fresh, so wanted to memorize his kisses and to conjure his embrace someday when he was mere dust in the ground. “I am going,” she said grimly, with three hairpins in her mouth. “Please make yourselves comfortable while I see to the coffee.
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